Dance with the One that Brought You
by KatDiva
Summary: “Want to give it a go, Granger?” Hermione comes of age, experiencing loathing, loyalty, lust and love for the first time. It's just not all with the same person.
1. Bourgeoisie Boogie

**Chapter 1: Bourgeoisie Boogie**

She didn't like waiting. She was never patient when it came to certain things. Actually she couldn't think of anything she was patient with, she had to admit. There were so many things that needed her attention. "What a waste of time," she mumbled to herself as she rummaged through her messenger's bag for the trusty to-do list that she religiously abided by daily. She skimmed over her list, greedily anticipating something that could be checked off, to make her feel like she was accomplishing something. Her eyes devoured the list: essay for Ancient Runes, Arithmancy homework, research for Defense Against the Dark Arts paper that would be due next week, and Potions lab work that would take at least a week of recording results of her experiment to create a new potion ... where would she start with that one? Feeling frustrated that she didn't have anything to tick just yet, she quickly got out her quill and ink, and added, "Meeting with Professor McGonagall" and promptly placed a neat tick next to it.

"Gods, you have a boring life, Granger," he stated matter-of-factly while leaning over her shoulder and reading her list. "Might want to add: _get a miracle makeover this year_, since it will take all year for that miracle to occur!"

She let out a yelp and jumped at least a foot high, banging her knees up on the desk, knocking over the ink bottle and causing it to pour down the desk, onto her list and into her lap.

"Malfoy!" she yelled "What the hell are you doing here, you skulking lowlife!" She was clearly upset at the damage done to her list and her robe. She quickly raised the ink-blotted list from the desk top.

"Look what you've done, you buffoon!"

Draco smirked as he walked around the desk to view the black river of ink that had spilt down the desk onto the precious Gryffindor Princess and shrugged, "Well Granger, what's the difference? If anything it's an improvement. Maybe the ink can help to cover up the filth that just oozes off of your robes. Oh wait, no, that's just you isn't it?"

She shook as she reached down into her pocket and withdrew her wand from her robe. She slowly raised it, with her hand trembling, her eyes following the wand. "You have no reason to be here Malfoy," she seethed. "As a matter of fact, you have no real reason to exist at all do you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and slowly reached into his own pocket, fingering his wand, ready to withdraw it on a moment's notice.

"Want to give it a go, Granger?" he challenged. He withdrew the wand, but held it down at his side. "Just you and me, a little one on one?" He tapped it slowly against his leg, in anticipation. "Finally your chance for a little tête - à - tête with me, wand to wand, no bloody bodyguards to save your day, what do you say?"

Hermione's veins pounded with adrenaline pumping through them and she let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding in. "Any day, Malfoy," she seethed through clenched teeth. "And I don't need anybody to back me up, unlike you and your goon squad! That must be why I didn't hear you come in the room, since you usually sludge around together with your Slytherin slimeballs." She emphasized each 's' with a snakelike hiss.

"Lower your wand, Ms. Granger." A calm voice of reason came from across the room. Professor McGonagall advanced slowly as she eyed the extended wand pointed directly at Draco Malfoy****"And Mr. Malfoy, please take a seat."

Hermione's hand was still trembling with frustration piled atop****her anger, but slowly she exhaled and lowered her head along with her wand. She muttered, "_Scourgify,"_ and the ink rose up into the air from her robe and desk and slowly broke up into tiny particles before evaporating altogether.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and waited for Draco to be seated, as he reluctantly walked across the room and sat several desks away from Hermione.

"I have Quidditch practice in thirty minutes," he stated, as if to inform them that he would only grace them with his presence until then.

"And Professor, he needs all the practice he can get, since they are playing against Gryffindor****this Saturday****We know how that always turns out... even if they aren't playing for the Cup this year" She shrugged and added, "He must be a masochist." She felt smug being able to rub it in Malfoy's face that Slytherin had never yet won a Quidditch game against the mighty Gryffindors.

"Yes, well, this won't take long, Mr. Malfoy. And do try and pay attention, Miss Granger. The more time you spend exchanging barbs, the longer this is going to take."

It was Malfoy's turn to feel smug. However he couldn't quite keep the smirk on his face because he couldn't help wondering why he and Granger had been asked to see McGonagall in the first place.

"The reason I've asked you both here is because as you know, it's a very special year for us, with the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons attending Hogwarts as we host the Triwizard Tournament."

Draco rolled his eyes, he hated the way the year had started. Just one more chance for Potthead to show off to the world, trying to get as much spotlight in the media as possible. Always a glory hog, that one.

Professor McGonagall continued, "Along with many other activities and events occurring, we will be hosting the Yule Ball this year. It's a time when all three schools come together to celebrate. Each of the champions and their partners will be expected to open the ball with a traditional waltz."

Hermione looked puzzled and without realizing she had done so, she raised her hand to ask a question. "Excuse me, Professor?"

Draco scoffed at her, "Granger, you're not in class. Do you also raise your hand at home to use the loo?"

Hermione was immediately embarrassed, not to mention perturbed****and lowered her hand, not turning to look at Malfoy. "Professor, what does this have to do with us? We aren't in the tournament."

"Miss Granger, I know you've studied music and I believe you've taken many years of ballet lessons at home." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "And Mr. Malfoy, your father has seen to it that you've received the highest degree of ballroom dancing instruction available, as your family attends so many formal wizarding balls during the season."

He nodded, but still wasn't sure where this was going.

"There won't be much time for the champions to learn, since they will need to focus on each of their tasks. Therefore, the headmaster has requested that I find two talented and capable students to assist me with the instruction and choreography of the waltz." She patted her hair self-consciously, "Although I do pride myself in being an adequate dancer, I am sure there are many new dance steps that your peers would rather learn from you than from me, though the basics are the same."

"You want me to teach them how to dance?" Draco said incredulously.

"No, Mr. Malfoy," she corrected. "I want you to choreograph the dance, and then teach them. The both of you have the training, skills and talent that will make this dance an event to remember."

Hermione was floored, positively speechless. The only thing she could manage to fumble was, "What? I mean... together? How?"

"I'm not dancing with Granger, Professor. There is no way you can make me do that. My father will be livid when he finds out what you're making me do."

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm not asking you to escort Miss Granger to the ball. Nor am I requesting that you dance with each other during the evening of the ball. I am simply requesting your assistance in the spirit of school unity in setting an example to the two schools we are hosting."

She noticed the way Draco had folded his arms over his chest, attempting to close himself off from the conversation, but she continued anyway. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Krum and Mr. Diggory are all fine Quidditch players, but I don't think any of them would take offense to admitting that they have never waltzed before. Unfortunately Quidditch skills don't transfer into dance skills. Miss Delacour, on the other hand, is an exquisite dancer. She will be able to assist you with the instruction, but won't be able to spare much time for the choreography. She will be too busy working on her tasks as a champion."

Hermione thought she saw a glimmer of hope to escape this uncomfortable request her professor had made of her. "But since Fleur is such a fine dancer, I am sure there are many other girls from Beauxbatons that can assist you, Professor. They are all part Veela, they seem to just float on air as it is. I really don't think my study of ballet will help in ballroom dancing."

"Not to mention it's _Muggle_ ballet. Who knows what passes for dancing with them!" Draco mumbled under his breath, but loud enough for them to hear.

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, while I can appreciate your reluctance to work together on this project, I would like to explain the benefits of my proposal. Since we are requesting you take time from your studies and leisure, we would reward each of your houses 250 points, as well as grant access to the dining hall every other Friday evening after your dancing practices end, for late evening refreshments."

This seemed to cause some mulling over for Draco, but he had to make sure this would not come back to bite him. "And I don't have to touch her? I don't have to dance with her?"

"I'm still in the room, Malfoy! You act as if I would _want _you near me. Don't flatter yourself." Hermione glared at Draco, wishing that Professor McGonagall wasn't in the room so she could let fly with what she really thought of him.

Professor McGonagall sighed, "Although I was hoping we could put our differences aside, I suppose it might be too much to ask of you two to behave civilly. Mr. Malfoy, the waltz is done with a partner, as you well know; however if you would rather dance with Mr. Potter, Mr. Krum or Mr. Diggory, then that would be just as acceptable. However instructing them to take the lead and you following might be a bit difficult."

Hermione giggled at the thought of Malfoy trying to get Harry to hold him and then tried to picture Viktor Krum and Malfoy waltzing, she nearly guffawed out loud!

"Yeah****well, I guess if Fleur is there, she can be my partner when I need to instruct how to lead," Draco acquiesced. He thought of the extra house points and the Friday night food fests his house would enjoy. Not to mention the opportunity this would give him to make a fool of Scarhead and his precious princess. He added, "Besides, if we leave it up to Granger, they'd all be on their toes spinning around in tutus." It was his turn to smirk as he imagined that blockhead Potter in a tutu!

Not to be outdone, Hermione added, "Professor, I am sure you want some dignity and not just snobbery represented in the dance and that's where I can help. We don't want to put everyone to sleep with the _bourgeoisie boogie_."

"Eat a dictionary for lunch did we, Granger?" Draco rallied.

"Am I to take this as consent, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, thinking of how much fun she and Harry would have taking the mickey out of Malfoy! "Yes Professor, I'll accept."

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"'Bout time Slytherin showed the rest of Hogwarts how the aristocrats live, Professor." He grinned with anticipation. "You bet I'll accept."

Somehow Professor McGonagall felt as if the two students were mentally rubbing their hands together, plotting plans of destruction and devastation in front of her... she raised her eyebrows at each one, "Be warned Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, this is an honored tradition and we will not have you besmirch it with any pranks or antics."

"Yes, Professor," they both said in unison, surprising each other, but quickly recovering with a frown.

"Right then, we will start this Friday, after dinner, in the dining hall. The tables will be cleared and since we have four champions, we will request that at least two attend each practice. We can rotate around their schedules. Any questions?"

Professor McGonagall excused them as she headed out the room.

Hermione was replacing her quill, ink bottle and list in her messenger bag when Draco stretched his legs and arms in preparation to leave.

"Got your pointy ballet shoes, Granger?"

"Sorry Malfoy, I left them at home, but I can send an owl order to Flourish and Botts in time for Friday if you want. What size are you?"

He slowly crossed his legs, extending a rather large, black Doc Marten shoe, rocking it back and forth to place emphasis on its size.

He waggled his eyebrows up and down. "You know what they say about big feet, Granger," he grinned, flashing his silvery grey eyes at her.

"Yeah," she replied, getting up from her seat and heading toward the door. "The harder they are to extract from your mouth, Malfoy."


	2. Mates for Life

**Chapter 2: Mates For Life**

"I still can't believe you agreed to do it." Harry looked across the large dining table at Hermione, as he reached for a breakfast scone.

"It's 250 points for Gryffindor, Harry!" Hermione countered.

"Don't forget the Friday night food parties!" Ron mumbled stuffing through a large bite of pancake in his mouth. "I think you're spot on, Hermione! How hard can it be to come up with a few dance steps, and then reap the rewards all year!" Ron had purposely directed the response at Hermione, completely ignoring Harry. They may be have been sitting at the same table, but Ron was not speaking to Harry.

"Slytherin also gets the house points as well, don't they?" Harry pointed out to Hermione, upset that Ron was being a complete git, and ignoring him. "AND they get to come to the Friday night mixers as well. So how does that put us ahead of them?"

While Harry was speaking, Ron had turned to face Seamus and Dean and was whispering something to them, and chuckling, while Harry was speaking. Hermione knew that her two best friends were not on speaking terms, and it frustrated her to no end. Boys could be so immature at times!

"Harry, it puts us ahead, because we get the chance to finally put Malfoy in his place," Hermione said triumphantly. "We may not have an opportunity like this again! And you can't tell me you don't want to get him back for trying to hex you while your back was turned!"

Harry shrugged, and then a slow grin spread across his face. "Something tells me that Malfoy will think twice before he tries something like that again." He chuckled as he recalled Moody transforming Draco Malfoy into a blond ferret, and the scene it caused! If there was ever sweet justice, that had been it: After three long years of taking Malfoy's insults and pranks, that was his payback.

Harry's grin was contagious, and Hermione giggled at the infamous ferret transformation. She was usually very principled about keeping to the rules of Hogwarts, but this was an exception. Malfoy deserved it!

She glanced over at the Slytherin table just in time to see Malfoy sliding a "Potter Stinks" button at Blaise Zabini and laughing. Blaise reached down to pick up the badge and pinned it on his robes, both spinning the offensive button simultaneously and laughing loudly. She looked away and for the first time noticed that most of the dining hall had those same offensive buttons on. Even some of the Gryffindors were wearing them!

"Don't look at them, Harry." Hermione reached across the table and held out her hand, palm up. "They all have those ridiculous buttons on, just to show what real prats they are! You're above them."

They both heard a loud snort come from Ron. Hermione shot an icy glare at him, but he had angled his body so that his shoulder was turned to her, and she couldn't see his face.

Harry swallowed a bite of his scone, and reached his hand over and placed it on top of Hermione's. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know, Hermione," he reassured her. "The buttons don't bother me. But it worries me that you'll have to spend time alone with that prick. I swear, if he does anything to you..."

Ron straightened his shoulders and wiped the residue of syrup off his lips with a linen serviette. He turned to face Hermione and noticed the clasped hands across the table. Hermione said, "He'll answer to _us_ — he wouldn't dare after the ferret incident!"

"He's Malfoy... he'll try something," Harry concluded.

"But I'll be ready for him, Harry. You know I'm not stupid. I can actually think of a hex or two to defend myself. It's not like I won't have my wand."

"Or your fists," Harry added, as he looked up at Hermione and smiled at the memory of her plowing her fist into Malfoy's face last year. "You've got quite the right hook!"

They both laughed at this and Hermione locked fingers with Harry's hand, which was still lying on the table. Ron was still looking at their intertwined hands and squirming. Hermione chanced another glance over at the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy glaring openly at her, with a look of disgust. Ron cleared his throat. "Pass the scones, Hermione — that is if you can manage to unglue your hand."

Hermione and Harry then withdrew their hands, and she reached for scones. "Honestly, Ron, I don't know what's gotten into you lately," Hermione observed. "You're acting so sullen one minute and then flinging rude remarks off the next."

Ron didn't reply just shrugged off the comment and grabbed a scone from the basket that she had offered him. "Just thinking about how many secrets my mates keep from me. First someone here somehow _miraculously_ has his name entered in the Goblet — something that not even Fred and George could accomplish, and not for lack of trying! And then you end up revealing that you'll be fraternizing with public enemy number one, Malfoy. What's next? It just looks to me that you have a little more on your mind with him than a tango, Hermione."

Hermione sucked in her breath, and slammed down the basket of scones she was holding. Her face was beet red as she gathered her messenger bag and got up to leave.

Harry shot up to face Ron. "Look, Ron, I don't know why you insist on being a complete arse about this, but you don't have to take it out on Hermione! She's done nothing but be a friend to you."

Ron climbed over the bench, and looked across the table facing Harry. "I don't need you to tell me how much of a _friend_ I am to Hermione. She makes it perfectly clear." He glanced quickly over at Hermione and noticed how upset she appeared and felt a tinge of regret. "At least I know where I stand with _her_, mate." He stormed out of the dining hall and Hermione looked over at Harry.

"What did I say wrong?" she asked.

Harry pointed his head toward the door, and they began to walk out together with the table between them. He stopped at the end of the table, waiting for Hermione to join him from the other side. He gently placed his arm around her and leaned in close to her ear, lowering his voice to ensure privacy. "It's not so much what you said. Who knows what's going on with that twit. But I have a feeling it's what you don't say, Mione."

Hermione liked how she felt with Harry's arm around her, comforting her. She liked the warmth of his breath against her ear. Harry was her most precious friend in the world. She never had to question his loyalty or love. They had been through so much over the years, without a doubt, they would always be together... no matter what.

"What don't I say?" she asked asking softly, hooking an arm around Harry's waist and leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked out of the hall.

Harry took in her quizzical expression, and took a deep breath. "Hermione, you have a lot to learn about the opposite sex. You just have no idea." They walked arm in arm, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "But it's okay. That's what makes you so special. It's part of what I cherish about you."

Hermione nudged him in the ribs, and swung her right leg over Harry's left leg, momentarily blocking him.

"Oh don't assume, Mr. Potter! I may know more than you think I do!"

Harry smiled at her, and countered, moving his left leg back over and in front of Hermione's right leg, swinging his hip into her as he did so.

"Yeah right, Hermione! If it's not in Hogwarts, A History, I doubt you do!"

Laughing now, she swung her own hip back into Harry, crossing her leg back over his.

"If you're such an expert, why don't you enlighten me?"

Harry stopped and turned to face Hermione, looking down into her eyes. He reached over with his free hand and pushed back a stray ringlet of curl behind her ear and smiled. Her eyes held his as she waited for his response.

"Friggin' Get a room or at least clear out of the way, Potthead."

Draco, with Blaise at his side, bumped roughly into Harry's shoulder and pushed by him.

"Guess we know why the Weasel ran off to lick his wounds, now don't we?" Draco said over his shoulder, not bothering to look at them. He directed his next comment to Blaise, but he said it loud enough for Harry and Hermione. "Can you imagine how common the Gryffindor common room actually is? They certainly aren't very selective are they?"

"Malfoy!" Harry gritted between his teeth and let go of Hermione as he charged forward.

Hermione grabbed on to his arm sleeve and pulled him back. "Harry, don't. He's not worth it, and he never will be."

Harry hesitated, and Hermione handed him her messenger bag. "Come on, why don't you tell me about your first task?"

Harry grinned at Hermione and took the bag strap and placed it on his shoulder, and they continued to class. "I'm not sure what it is. They don't tell us anything. They don't want to give us an advantage, I suppose."

"You will be careful, won't you, Harry?"

"Come on, Mione." Harry nudged her as they walked. "You know I'm indestructible— The Boy Who Drooled, and all."

Hermione laughed with her best friend at that, and countered, "The Boy Who Fought!"

"The Boy Who Choked!" he volleyed.

"The Boy Who Won!" she challenged.

It was a game that they had come up with a few years ago, a parody that they enjoyed privately. As the bell rang, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand, and pulled her with him as they began to sprint across the courtyard to class.

"The Boy Who Failed," he laughed as he ran.

"The Boy Who Soared!" she returned, taking deep breaths as she tried to keep up.

Their footsteps rang out down the hallway as they headed toward their dreaded Potions class, knowing that Snape would deduct house points if they were late. Harry tightened his grip on Hermione's hand and picked up the pace of the sprint.

Even as her lungs filled with air, she challenged her legs to keep stride with Harry. She wasn't a Quidditch player, but she did enjoy a good workout, and wasn't going to have house points taken off because of her.

"The Boy Who Bombed!" Harry's hair flew from around his forehead, revealing his the infamous scar that had often caused so much trouble for him.

"The Boy Who Succeeded!"

"Hey, that's the same thing as 'won!'" Harry chided.

"And 'bombed' isn't the same as 'failed?'" She gasped for deeper breaths as they approached the Potions door.

"Point taken," Harry conceded. He and Hermione ground to a stop, banging into the door. Both panted heavily with hair, uniforms, and robes askew. Harry handed the messenger bag over to her. He looked at Hermione's red cheeks, flushed from running, and reached up and to pull another strand of hair that had attached itself on to her lips. His chest rose and fell, rapidly, but before he could remove the strand, he found himself mesmerized by Hermione's mouth. Her lips were parted as she tried to catch her breath. She looked at his hand frozen in midair, and pulled the strand from her mouth. They held each other's eyes as he reached for the door handle. He gulped in more air. "The Boy Who..."

"GOT DETENTION!" Snape finished as he swung the door completely open.

They had not realized that Professor Snape had already opened the door and were not aware of how long he had been standing there.

"Good of you to join us, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. Now if you are finished eye-groping each other, could you come in and take your seats?"

The entire class had turned to watch them as they came down to the front of the room.

"Pathetic," Draco spat out, as Hermione walked past him.

"As I was saying, before Mr. Potter deemed it necessary to so rudely interrupt class and grace us with his belated presence... You will work in pairs. Each team will conjure a potion that will be used for some sort of healing."

He took in the still flushed cheeks of Harry and Hermione, and added, "It can be cosmetic, or topical. I would not suggest anything to be ingestable unless you scored 100 on the last exam."

Hermione took out her notebook and began writing notes as Harry reached down between them, getting her potions book for from her bag. He opened it and placed it between them on the desk.

"In deference to the tournament Tournament of _Champions_," his lips curled around the word as he looked at Harry, "the headmaster has asked that we extend deadlines for major projects by a week, since the first task will be held next week. Therefore, you will need to have this potion ready in a fortnight."

There was instant chatter of approval and relief around the classroom.

"_However_," Snape continued, "I expect your potions to be all the more complex since you are being given an extra week. Please do not insult yourselves or your classmates by handing in shoddy work. You shall have the remainder of this period to come up with an idea for your potion."

Draco had been watching Harry and Hermione as they entered the classroom, cheeks flushed red, breathing heavily, clothes askew, glistening with perspiration, as if they had just tumbled off a cliff, or had just had the best snog ever. He forced himself to look away as they panted for each other, eyes locked together. He felt heat rise in his chest, and his pulse quicken. Remembering their idiotic and childish display — walking arm arm-in in-arm, crisscrossing each other's legs as they walked — increased the disgust he was feeling. He seethed as they began setting up their table area together, working so pathetically perfectly together. He felt the bile rise when he saw them put their heads together in discussion for the potion.

He turned to Blaise and said, "Listen, I've already got an idea for the potion. I've even come up with a perfect plan to do research on it! The dance practice sessions will be the ideal laboratory."


	3. First Kiss

**Chapter 3: First Kiss**

Hermione loved having this hour free to spend in the library. This was her nirvana. She had gathered a stack of books to her table, and began earnestly researching her cause. While Ron and Harry were cooped up with Divination class, she could proceed with righting a terrible wrong.

Her quill stopped momentarily as she paused. Her brows furrowed, she appeared to be lost in concentration as she considered a proper name for this cause. She gently raked the quill's feather across her lips, absentmindedly, as she pondered.

He sat across from Hermione, a few spaces down at the same table. He had been covertly observing her today as he did for the past week, until he saw the quill's feather softly touching her perfect set of rosy lips. His throat went dry, and he had difficulty swallowing.

She closed her eyes, oblivious to his presence, and mouthed words he couldn't hear. He unconsciously slid a bit closer to her and the stack of books. He pretended to be reading, but then glanced back up at her lips. What was she whispering? A spell? Was she trying to memorize something?

The feather stopped it's path across her mouth, and she bit gently on her lower lip. He stopped breathing.

"That's IT!" She proclaimed as her eyes popped open, "Society... for the ... Protection...of Elfish Welfare!" Her sudden epiphany had jolted him, and he banged his knees up under the table. He quickly looked down at his book.

She had felt the table jostle more than hearing the banging of his knees against the wood, and looked up at him for the first time, taking in his appearance.

She smiled shyly, "Sorry". It was a whisper. He was staring now. She sat up a bit straighter, and realized he hadn't said anything in reply. She felt a bit unnerved by him, and looked down at her parchment. She began writing, and then scribbled it out. Shaking her head, she didn't feel she had captured the proper name after all. She was close though.

"You ... you study hard." He had leaned forward and whispered, still honed in directly on her.

Hermione looked up at him, and smiled. She nodded and then looked back down at her parchment.

"What you study... It is important yes?" His Bulgarian accent was quite strong, prouncing his w's like v's.

Hermione looked around them to see if Madame Pince was anywhere within earshot. She leaned in closer to the table, "Yes," she whispered back, "It's very important. Possibly the most important work I've done yet."

His eyebrows shot up. He looked down at her stack of books and could not tell from their bindings what she was reading. He smiled again, closed his book and stood. Hermione thought he had decided to leave her alone, and she returned to her parchment, scribbling a few other words down. Then she felt him sit next to her. He leaned into her side, and said softly, "Viktor Krum. You please tell me your name, and what is very important work you do." He had extended his hand to her across the parchment.

She took his hand and shook it briefly, smiling nervously, "Of course you're Viktor Krum." She blushed now and continued, "Hermione Granger."

"Hermyninny" he breathed, "Beautiful name to match beautiful girl."

Her face could not have gotten any hotter than if one of Hagrid's blast ended skrewts had shot her with flames. She returned to her parchment and mumbled, "Err, thanks."

He was still leaning in very close to her as he read her handwriting, "Society for Protection of Elves... " he asked her, "What is?"

"Ah," she reached up and tried to smooth a hand through her hair, and he followed the movement with his eyes, "I'm going to liberate slaves and house elves." She glanced up to see his reaction. He didn't laugh, he didn't gape at her, or any of the other reactions she would have expected from Ron or Harry. He nodded. That's it, just a nod. So she continued, "It's come to my attention this year that Hogwarts is contributing to the cruelty of slavery by making house elves cook in the kitchens!" She must have said it louder than she thought, because Madame Pince rounded a corner and shushed her.

Viktor lifted up one of her research books, "_Mastering Elves,_" and opened it. He perused the table of contents, and then noticed she had marked a section by sticking a colored ribbon bookmark. He turned to that section and began to read. Hermione noticed that he had not moved his body away from her. She could feel the warmth from his arm and shoulder against hers. She tried to pull her thoughts back to her parchment, tapping it lightly with the quill.

Viktor glanced sideways at her and then continued reading.

"Perhaps you tell me more about work for elves?" It was so soft that she almost didn't hear him.

She fidgeted in her seat, and put down her quill. She reached for another book, opened it. "Yes, well, I'm not sure I can do that here in the library." She returned his whisper, and nodded in the direction of Madame Pince. He pressed his leg against hers, and she quickly raised her head up, and looked straight ahead, not turning to him at all. "You see, it's all about the welfare of creatures that have no rights in the wizarding world." She breathed deeply, "House elves can only be freed if given an article of clothing from their masters, but here at Hogwarts, there is no master! And thus, no freedom can be had. Nor do we pay them for their labor."

He bent down and leaned in closer to her, so that his entire right side was now leaning on her, and whispered into her ear, "Very bad." She flushed again, managed a strangled, "Mmm." His breath against her ear had driven any words from her mouth and mind.

"Hermyninny" he breathed, "I help you."

Her hands pressed flat on the table and she looked down at them. What was he doing? What on earth had brought the famous Bulgarian seeker to her side? She wondered briefly if he was playing with her. Merlin knows he had all of the girls in Hogwarts in a titter... all scrambling to him for autographs, following him around as he worked out.

"I'm sorry," she replied as she shut the book in front of her, and rolled up the parchment. "I need to get to my next class." She quickly grabbed two of the largest books that she had been reading, stood up as she reached for her messenger's bag, and hurried off.

Viktor smiled as he followed her exit with his eyes. Her robe was hanging off her shoulder, and her hair was a mass of curls, both flowing behind her as she made her hasty retreat. He glanced at the table, and noticed she had left a row of colored ribbons laid out, which she had been using for bookmarks. He grabbed them up and followed her.

"Hermyninny!" he called out to her once outside the library. It only took him a few seconds with his long, strong strides to catch up to her. "Wait, please." He extended his hand to her and she glanced down at her ribbons. She tried to shift the weight of the two large books onto one arm, while reaching for the ribbons, "Thank you, Viktor."

He reached for her books, and she jumped as he brushed her arm. He bent down and lowered his face closer to hers, "I help," he softly repeated.

Hermione was at a loss. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, still clutching onto the books. "Viktor, I'm 14 years old." He nodded and his eyes softened with a sparkle, "Too old for help?"

Her face lit up with a smile, and she shook her head. "No, that's not it at all. And I will be 15 in a few months."

He opened his palm that held the colorful ribbons and extended it to her. When her small hand reached into his to retrieve them, he enclosed his hand, capturing hers. His fingers gently squeezed hers. "You carry ribbons, I carry books."

She found herself chatting quite easily with Viktor as they headed down the hallway, him with her books, and she with her bag on her shoulder, and ribbons in her hand. She told him about the importance of liberating the elves, about the injustice of slavery, and about her work to start a society that would protect them.

Viktor listened.

"Well, this is where we part ways. I have an assignment to work on. Another project."

He smiled at her and she wondered how come every time he did that, she felt something melt inside.

He transferred the books back into her arms.

"Thank you Viktor."

He lifted his hand up and brought it to her hair and began softly stroking it. _Is he petting me? _

As he leaned in toward her face, she backed up, nervously, "Umm, yeah. Well... that is... I am sure I will see you around soon." His hand went from her hair to her shoulder and he softly caressed it , slightly pulling her back in toward him.

She planted her feet firmly. "Oh yes, as a matter of fact... the waltz."

He cocked his head to the side, still smiling at her as she bit her lower lip.

"You see, Malfoy... well he and I were asked to... umm."

It happened before she knew it. He had swiftly dove in for a quick peck on her lips, and patted her head. All the while she had her eyes open and she didn't see it coming at all! _Her first kiss._

She hadn't kissed back, and it wasn't something she was prepared to receive! Did he just kiss her and pat her head?

"Hermyninny."

She looked up and he winked at her. Winked! He was smiling as he turned away and carried on down the hallway.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, dumbfounded, but it seemed like hours.

What was that!

Was that really Viktor Krum, kissing _her_, Hermione Granger, right here in Hogwarts?

She slowly smiled, and closed her eyes. She got her first kiss from Viktor Krum!

She spun around as she squeezed the heavy books into her chest.

It seemed as though she floated the rest of the way to her destination, the Great Hall. Not even a veela could be walking as lightly or gracefully as she was now. She didn't even feel the ground beneath her.

She glided into the Great Hall, with a smile that went ear to ear, and clutched the books closer to her. They didn't even seem that heavy anymore... she hadn't realized that in the process of bringing them to her chest, she had them pressed under her breasts, lifting them up and outward.

"My, My Granger... " he said slyly as he eyed her, "What big...Books you have."


	4. Kick it Up a Notch

**Chapter 4: Kick it Up a Notch**

"Malfoy," Hermione smiled and decided to ignore his perverse comment, "You've got great hair, did you know that? It would look so much better if you didn't put all that product in it and just left it natural."

His patented superior Malfoy smirk fell from his face and was replaced by a blank stare... "Wh..What?"

She smiled and sauntered over to the nearest table, plopping the heavy books on top, turned to him and then scanned the room. "Ok, so this won't do, let's move those three tables," she said as she removed her wand from her pocket, and pointed to them, "against the walls, and that will give us plenty of room."

His mouth had dropped open, he blinked as he struggled to find his words, "Granger.." he sized her up and down, his eyebrows dented with doubt, "... are you ill?"

"_Wingardium_ _Levisoa" _she almost sang the words, as she tapped her wand in the air, pointing to the tables as one raised slowly and began to move toward the far side of the room. She smiled with ease, glancing over her shoulder at Draco, "Come on Malfoy, we don't have all day."

"Been dipping into the kitchen's supply of butterbeer, Granger?"

She continued her task, lifting the second table off to the opposite side of the room as she placed her free hand on her hip. "You see Malfoy, it's quite simple," She raised her free hand from her hip, and held it out to him gesturing, "It's all in the wrist... just _swish and flick."_

He raised his chin and eyebrows at the same time. "I'm perfectly capable of levitating a simple wooden table, Granger." As if to prove a point he demonstrated his skill with the third table, watching it float through the air toward the back of the Great Hall. "And if you want to practice more wrist work later on, I can help you there as well." His eyes challenged her for a response.

She rolled her eyes, but didn't stop smiling, "Malfoy your crude, perverted ranting won't affect me today... you see I have decided that this has to be possibly the best day of my life so far!"

"Pffft," he blew out, "What has gotten into you today... or should I say _who? _Let me guess, the Golden Snitch Seeking Scarhead?

She inhaled, and turned back to face the large expanse of the room . "I'm not listening to you today." she said in a sing-song voice, "I'm here because Professor McGonagall asked me to be here. With or without you, I'm going to carry on with the work at hand."

She eyed the old phonograph on the elevated stand at the head table, where the professors ate their meals, and walked over to it.

There was a stack of old black records laying next to it, and she shuffled through them, noticing that most were compositions by classical artists, although there were a few she didn't recognize and laid those to one side. "Malfoy have you given any of these a listen? Have you decided what type of waltz to teach?"

He felt perturbed that he wasn't getting the reaction from her that he was accustomed to... this side of Hermione Granger was so... boring! He watched her back, observing the long dark robe that fell just below her knees, and he felt compelled to walk over to her and give her a good shaking. He wasn't sure why, but this was unacceptable. She was talking to him as if she were his peer! As if the last three years of bickering never existed. As if she didn't hate him. As if she didn't ... know him.

He could handle fighting. Verbal fencing is what he excelled in. That's what had defined their relationship. What he couldn't handle was indifference. He would not tolerate it.

Who did she think she was, complimenting him about his hair? The very thought of her trying to show _him, _Draco Malfoy, how to do an elementary levitation spell! And now she was discussing music, as if nothing else mattered? As if _he_ didn't matter?

Still having her back to him, she raised an album up, "Maybe we can start with this one," she said, not turning to face him, "It's pretty standard, but we can at least get warmed up."

He lowered his chin and with a look of determination he crossed the room to her.

"Malfoy, it's really quite surprising how far ahead muggles are in certain aspects. I mean, magic aside, they have the best CD's and stereo equipment..." She wasn't able to finish her sentence before he grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around to face him.

"I don't want to hear about your _muggle _contraptions," he gritted his teeth together, "I don't want to hear about how bloody _glorious _your day is, and I don't want to spend another moment than necessary in this room with you. Let's get one thing clear here Granger..." he leaned in toward her, as if to emphasize his words, "_I _am the bloody instructor here, not _you. _There is nothing you can teach me that I don't already know."

Her smile faded quickly and she shook his hand off her shoulder. He hadn't realize he had still been clasping on to it. He raised his chin, looking down on her, waiting for her to return to herself again.

"Fine." she said with hesitancy, "Have it your way Malfoy. Forget I tried to be human to you for one day." She handed him the record, "You pick the music." She walked past him and took a position in the middle of the floor, focusing on some unseen target on the wall.

He quickly spread the records across the table with frustration. That's not how she was supposed to respond! She was supposed to fight back with a passion, like she usually did. Passion. That's what she lacked today. _Passion_. Someone or something had changed her. Someone else had tapped into her and stolen it away.

He had his work cut out for him, but he was up to the task. He wasn't sure what had happened to her, but he was darn sure it wouldn't stay this way.

He selected an album from a well respected wizarding orchestra, and carefully placed the needle of the phonograph on the second track. He turned to face Hermione, and took off his robe, placing it next to the phonograph.

"Remove your robe, Granger."

The music began playing, an upbeat but melodic combination of strings and brass. Draco walked to the center of the room, looking over his shoulder he said, "Now do try and keep up." He waited for her to join him after placing her robe on one of the tables, she walked in front of him and held her hands up in a traditional waltz position.

"No Granger," he smirked, "You're not ready for that yet. I doubt you'll ever be ready for that... get behind me. You will mirror my steps, and I will see how inadequate you are with your _muggle _moves."

She lowered her hands, feeling the anger rising, but took a deep breath and moved into position several feet behind him. Draco started off with a basic waltz move, his hands were down at his side, and he danced on the balls of his feet, dipping lower for two steps, and then bringing his feet together for the third rising up, he glided forward. Hermione easily followed his fluid motion as he continued across the floor.

He glanced over his shoulder, and attempted to mask the surprise at how graceful she was on her feet. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. He decided to test her, and crossed over into a grapevine movement, and Hermione followed flawlessly.

"We aren't going to be doing the Dumbledore-McGonagall version of this dance, Granger, you'll need to kick it up a notch." he spun to face her, "Let's see how you spin."

He stopped and demonstrated a spin with his hand, "Around you go..."

Hermione spun around perfectly for several rotations, focusing on Draco with each turn. When she came out from the spin, she continued her fluidity by leaning in toward him, reaching one hand out, nearly brushing his shoulder, gracefully, in a lyrical beckon, and then just as softly retreated back and dancing her way around him, with her back facing him she leaned diagonally, looking over her shoulder, and extended her arm out to him again, coming within inches of his cheek before she withdrew it, spinning back into her original position. He didn't realize he had taken a step forward and was leaning in towards her.

The music continued to play but she had stopped dancing. She looked directly at him, boring her eyes into his, "Malfoy, I can dance the pants off you."

Something flashed in his eyes causing them to darken. "Is that a promise, Granger?"

They were frozen in place when somewhere in the distance the bell rang. She turned and marched to her robe and books. Without putting it on she called over her shoulder to him, "Whenever you're ready to kick it up that notch, let me know."

He watched her leave as he deeply exhaled the breath he was holding in and ran a hand through his hair, "Bugger me!"


	5. Dirty Harry

**Chapter 5: Dirty Harry**

Jumping at the instant popping sound that came from behind him, Harry quickly turned to find Dobby had apparated into his room.

"Good Morning Harry Potter!" the excited house-elf greeted.

"Good Morning Dobby. You're up and about quite early. I thought you'd be in the kitchen galley helping Winky this morning."

"Yes well, that's why Dobby is here. Please, Harry Potter must come now!" the elf fidgeted with his hands, and tugged on his white linen apron.

"What's the matter Dobby? What's happened?"

"It's Master Harry's friend and Miss Winky sir."

"Winky? What's happened to Winky? What friend?"

"Please come, Master Harry. Dobby is trying to prepare breakfast for all the students, and Master's Harry's friend is ..." Dobby paused, looking for the right word, "...well she is helping."

"Who's helping, Dobby? And what does this have to do with Winky?"

"No, Harry Potter does not understand. She is _helping_... the way that Dobby tried to help save Harry Potter's life."

Harry was confused. The small creature made no sense this morning, and it was too early for riddles. He met the large, rounded eyes and inquired again, "Dobby, what's happened. Explain to me what Winky needs."

Dobby pulled on Harry's hand and said with urgency, "Please follow Dobby. Master Harry must help Miss Winky now...Please!"

Harry found himself being dragged out of the Gryffindor common room and down the stairs that led to the kitchen galley. He called after Dobby to slow down, but as Dobby scurried intently down the hallways, Harry found it difficult to understand the house-elf. He could only glean that something had happened to Winky and she needed help.

As the unlikely pair burst into the kitchen, Harry found the source of Winky's distress. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and had smudge of flour on her face. She had donned an apron that had fresh yellow egg yolk stains on the front.

"Winky please listen to me. You mustn't help me. I'm in charge of breakfast today, and I will finish these pancakes. You must help me explain to the rest of the house-elfs that they are no longer forced to do slave-labor!"

Winky was nearly convulsing with sobs and hiccups. She moaned as she threw her hands in front of her, "Please Miss! _PLEASE! _Winky will make the pancakes! Please!"

Dobby let out a squirming plea, looking up at Harry with his large, watery eyes, nearly filling with tears, he tugged on Harry's pant leg. When Harry looked down at him, smiling, Dobby nodded his head in Hermione's direction. "Please Master Harry," Dobby pleaded, "Please _help_ Miss Winky!"

Harry nearly burst out laughing. Hermione was driving these poor creatures to their wits end. They wanted no part of her liberation movement, and by the looks of several disgruntled elves in the room that were bunched together with scornful looks on their faces, arms crossed in front of them, whispering frantically amongst themselves, Harry could tell she was about to be evicted from their kitchen.

Harry approached Hermione from behind, reached around her and covered her eyes with both hands. "Knock, knock" he said softly.

"Harry!" Hermione jumped and tried to pulled his hands off her eyes.

"That's not what you're supposed to say now is it?"

"Come on, Harry, I'm busy! Stop playing around."

Harry shook his head and leaned in closer, repeating the passage, "Knock, knock."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, "Oh all right! Who's there?"

"Bach."

She put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips to keep them from smiling, "Bach who?"

"Bach to work, you slacker!"

She groaned. He released his hold on her eyes, and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting them on her collarbone. "Now before you blow a gasket, Mione, just listen. I know you mean well, I know you're serious about S.P.E.W. But you need to come with me, quickly. They're about to commit mutiny."

She pulled out of his arms and turned to face him.

"Harry, this is important! You know they just don't realize yet, how disadvantaged they are... they think they _like _working!"

He noticed how her apron had been tied around her waist, the strings tied into a neat box in front. He reached down and untied the bow, then reached for the straps that went around her neck.

"I need you to come with me."

"But Harry..."

"Now, Mione. Come." He lifted the apron straps up and over her head.

Dobby ran over to comfort the still sobbing Winky and looked up to Harry. A forced smile crossed his mouth as he bowed his head, "Dobby thanks Miss for ... _helping_. But Miss will please go with Harry Potter now."

Harry grasped Hermione by the hand and led her out of the kitchen, through the Great Hall, in the direction of the front entrance. "There's something I want to show you."

The morning dew glistened on the grass as they made their way across it, and headed in the direction of the lake.

"I wrote to Sirius, like you suggested... and he wrote back. He's coming Hermione."

"Coming where? Here to Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded, and kept his gaze in the direction of the lake. "I hadn't expected that. It's still not safe for him. But even after I wrote back and told him that the scar incident was bogus, he still insists on coming. I can't stop him."

"Oh Harry!" She squeezed his hand, "You know he will be careful. You know he's doing this for your protection."

They were near the lake's edge now, and Harry stared across the horizon. The morning sun tinted the water with grey and silver. A flock of geese flew overhead in a V formation. They swerved off into an easterly direction and Harry closed his eyes.

"Hermione, something will change this year. I don't know what it is, but I feel it coming. It's change."

The morning air was brisk, and Hermione didn't have her school robe on. She had removed it for cooking, but she had a cardigan on over her uniform blouse. She raised up her hands to do up the buttons, and instead of releasing Harry's hand, she managed somehow to button the first two buttons with their hands clasped, the back of his hand resting on her chest as she worked her way down the sweater.

"I've been thinking about Ron, Harry." She continued slowly with the buttons, since it was rather clumsy while still holding hands with Harry.

"I think he's jealous." Harry stated.

"I agree," Hermione continued, "He's jealous of many things Harry. At the World Cup, when he had all that leprechaun gold, he seemed so thrilled. For the first time he had money to give to you! It's not your fault, of course, but you know their family situation. And then there's you... well you're not exactly hurting for money."

"Mione," Harry swallowed.

"No, let me finish... he is jealous of your money and of your fame. You know this whole 'eternal glory' thing really means a lot to Ron. But I know you didn't put your name in the goblet, Harry. You'd have to be barkers to do so!"

On the fourth button down her cardigan, Harry noticed that his hand rested against her breasts and he shifted, tucking his free hand in his trouser pocket.

"Mione," Harry tried again.

"No, Harry, it's not just the Triwizard Tournament either. It's also your relationship with Professor Dumbledore. We both know how close you two are, and well, frankly it is a bit disconcerting at times."

"It's you." He declared.

"What?" She sputtered.

"It's you." He pulled his hand free from her grasp, not being about to concentrate with it being so intimately close to her. Something in him wanted to turn his hand to her. He shoved his hand into his free pocket, both hands forming fists in his pockets.

"Hermione, Ron fancies you. You must realize this by now."

She shook her head in denial, "No... no, you're wrong."

"I'm not sure he will even admit it to himself, Mione, but he does. And deep down inside you know he does. The question is, do you fancy him?"

She walked over to the very edge of the lake, squatted down, tucking her skirt under her, and picked up a pebble that had been smoothed by decades of being in the water. Harry walked over to her, picked up a similar pebble tossing it across the water's surface, skipping several times before sinking into the lake.

He retrieved another, repeated the action, mentally counting how many times the pebble skipped the surface before plunging down into the water.

She stood and faced him. "The first task is tomorrow, Harry. What are you going to do?"

Harry bent down for another pebble and held it in his hands, feeling of it's smoothness. "You didn't answer me, Mione."

"Harry..." she swallowed, her throat feeling raw.

"It's not a hard question to answer. It's not an essay question, or even multiple choice... it's either yes or no... true or false." He wanted to hear her answer, but at the same time, he didn't. He was afraid that she would confess something that made him uneasy. Why was her asking her about her feelings for Ron? Shouldn't Ron be the one talking to her about this? And what would he do if she said yes? He suddenly felt panic grip him and take hold. What if...

She reached for his pebble, and tried to mimic him, but the rock kerplunked directly into the lake, sinking without a single skip. She felt deflated. She wanted to sink right along with that rock.

She had suspected that Ron might have feelings toward her, but she didn't want to discuss this with Harry. She didn't want Harry to think of her any differently than he did now. She thought about the possibility of losing his friendship over Ron. After all, he and Ron weren't talking to each other and maybe Harry expected her to go with Ron now. She had to do something to fix this!

Hermione put her hand on Harry's shoulder, looked him straight in the eye, and proclaimed, _"There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love."_

Harry blinked. Several times.

"What?"

"Johnny Depp, Don Juan De Marco. I get another go."

Harry shook his head, "Hermione!"

She straightened her shoulders, "I get another go! Try and focus now Potter."

They hadn't played this game in ages. There was no one else she knew at Hogwarts that could play this game with her. Only Harry and Hermione knew about muggle movies, and they loved them. During the summers when everyone else went to their magical homes, Harry and Hermione went home to muggles. They would owl each other the list of favorites that they'd watch.

"Ok, this one will be easier for you: _ "I know what you're thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean __off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya punk?"_

"Cripes can you get any easier than that one Hermione? Dirty Harry!"

"Yeah well, you're out of practice, I had to go easy on you!" She softly punched his shoulder. "So what were you going to show me?"

He squinted and pointed across the lake, to a section of shore on their left. "It's over there, but we can't get there from here unless we go through the Forbidden Forest."

"What is it?"

"The last ingredient we need for our healing salve, for Potions."

She lit up with surprise and threw her arms around Harry. "Nirvae! You found Nirvae? You did it! You found it! I knew you could!"

He chuckled as he pulled her in closer to him, tightening their embrace. He breathed in the jasmine smell of hers, that had nothing to do with perfume, shampoos or conditioners. This was her, he breathed in deeply, tucking his face into her neck, this was Hermione's smell. He wasn't sure if she had cast a spell on herself or not, but did know that whenever he held her like this, he was overcome, and couldn't breathe in deep enough.

"Thank you Harry..." she whispered, "Thank you!"

He knew she was thanking him for more than finding the last missing potion ingredient, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was. "Hermione..."

"It's your go."

She reluctantly released him.

Harry grinned and raised his chin,_ "You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting. In what world could you possibly beat me?"_

"Too easy... Knight's Tale. My go."

She turned and headed back to the castle to see if they could catch breakfast before the food magically disappeared.

"_I don't want to sell anything, buy anything or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed... or buy anything sold or processed... or process anything sold, bought or processed... or repair anything sold, bought or proc__essed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that. What I really want to do with my life - what I want to do for a living - is I want to be with your daughter. I'm good at it." _

"No fair... that sounds like a chick flick Mione! You _always _pick quotes from the chick flicks!"

"And you always pick Clint Eastwood movies! Do you give up?"

"I have a better idea... last one through the entrance writes all the notes for the potions results!" He pulled on her arm and began jogging toward the castle. "I'll give you a five second lead..."

"You're being a sore loser," Hermione laughed.

"Five...four..."

She didn't wait for the final countdown, she sprinted with full speed. He grinned smoothly, as he watched her run from him, pulling his hands from his pockets, ready to give chase.


	6. Lust

**Chapter 6 - Lust**

"That was bloody brilliant!" laughed Blaise uncontrollably.

Draco still had a menacing smile pasted on his face as he glanced sideways at his best mate as they made their way to the hospital wing.

"Yeah well, it's about time someone put that mudblood in her place." He congratulated himself, "She's had that coming for a year now." Blaise knew exactly what Draco was referring to, since Goyle and Crabbe had informed him about how Hermione Granger had punched Malfoy in the face last year. Of course they had told him when Draco wasn't around, fearing his repercussions if they'd talked about it in his presence.

Blaise was actually tearing up, he was laughing so hard. "Did... Did... you ... see... the look on her face!" He leaned his arm on Draco's shoulder. "I mean when Snape told her... "

He couldn't finish because he was having a laughing fit.

"Gods, Snape is priceless!" Draco agreed. "Telling her that he didn't see a difference!" Draco never felt more proud of his godfather. Of course the hex he had thrown from his wand was meant for bloody Potthead, but both Potter's and Draco's spells had missed their targets, hitting Granger and Goyle instead.

Snape had sent Goyle to see Madame Pomfrey for the boils that instantly appeared on his face, but when Granger's teeth grew downward and extended past her chin, Snape didn't even blink an eye!

He recalled her running away in tears after Snape had told her there was no difference and something in Draco's stomach turned upside down. Even so, he had laughed at the results of the hex. Merlin, she'd looked like an overgrown beaver! It wasn't the first time he had laughed inappropriately. The hex wasn't meant for her in the first place.

That would teach Granger to underestimate him! She would think twice now before ignoring him, or thinking that she was on the same level as he. Sure, she was book-smart, but after reading every bloody book in the school library during her free time, who wouldn't be? She really wasn't that great a witch. She was a show off. A know-it-all... her and _Saint Potter _were perfect for each other. So why was there something nagging at him in his gut?

As both Blaise and Draco entered the hospital wing, the first thing he noticed was the disgusting display of the golden duo. Potter sat on her hospital bed, hugging her close to him, stroking her hair, and whispering into her ear. Disgusting! She was sniffling and nodding her head when he would whisper to her and she clutched onto his back.

Madame Pomfrey rushed over to Draco and Blaise with a tray of bottles, and her wand. "Boys, you can't be in here now. We've a procedure to conduct here... mending hexes that should never have let fly in the first place." She looked scornfully at Draco who just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Goyle," was all he was able to say before she started pushing them from the room.

"He's already been administered a remedy spell, Mr. Malfoy. You and Mr. Zabini should find him in your common room."

Blaise looked over her shoulder, as she pushed them out, he said, "If we bring carrots next time, can we stay?" Draco laughed at his best friend's joke, watching Harry's back stiffen as he threw his head up and looked in their direction. If his eyes alone could send hexes, Draco knew both he and Blaise would be recipients of an unforgivable curse.

"Later, Malfoy," he threatened. "I promise you!" He held Hermione closer, making sure he kept her face buried into the crook of his neck so that they couldn't actually see her or her monstrous teeth. He placed a kiss in her hair as Hermione let out another sob, whispering to her, comforting her, stroking her.

Draco spun around, leaving Blaise behind, as his robes billowed behind him.

"What's the hurry, mate?" Blaise called after him.

"The sooner I get away from ... _them_, the better."

He should have guessed that Potter would be there. Of course he would... after all they must be an item, always together, always fawning over each other. Always clutching at each other. Pathetic!

Still, he felt a small compulsion urging him to see Hermione alone. He felt maybe he should explain. It wouldn't be an apology, mind you, because Merlin knew he wasn't ever going to apologize for something that wasn't even his fault! It's not like he'd _meant _to hex her. But some small part of him wanted to let her know that it wasn't intentional. However, the voice of reason told him to stay as far away from Hermione Granger as possible.

What would he say to her? _Say Granger, about those rabbit teeth of yours, on the up side, you'll be able to open tins much easier now._

Maybe he would look for her this afternoon, after classes. He knew her destination. She'd always be in the library; she was so predictable. Every afternoon she rushed off to the library. Perhaps it was because she knew Harry would be working on his Triwizard tasks, or perhaps it was to work on her convoluted "Free the Elves" movement that he had heard about. Either way, he knew where to find her: either in the library after classes or dinner. She practically lived there.

----o-----o-----o-----o

Hermione had been traumatized. She hated Malfoy! She knew the whole school probably had heard from the Slytherins what had happened to her. He was such a tosser!

She felt a familiar squeeze on her shoulder, and placed her hand over the large, strong hand. He had come for her again, as he did every day this week. Mostly he just sat next to her, while they read. He liked sitting close to her. Before they'd leave, he would pull her off into a secluded stack and gently kiss her. He never overstepped any boundaries. He was a gentleman. A strong, strapping man that wanted to be with her. She didn't really have much in common with him, other than the fact that he was satisfied to just _be with her_.

"Hermyninny, you come."

She wondered if Viktor had heard about the hexing today, but decided to go with him regardless.

He clasped her hand, and led her into a quieter, more secluded section of the stacks, and then he leaned her up against the wall. "You are ok?" he whispered.

She nodded and smiled back at him. Viktor was a quiet man. She didn't understand how someone so gentle and solemn could be such a fierce Quiddich player, world-renowned Seeker.

He brought her chin up with one of his large hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "I give something to you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out several beautiful golden and silver ribbons, each with a medal of some sort on the end. She looked down at them and picked one up; it sparkled and shone and even in the dimly lit library, she could read the words, 'World Cup Champion.'

"Oh Viktor!" She shook her head. "I can't... these are... these are too precious."

He placed them all in her hand, and smiled at her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, "Not as precious as my Hermyninny. Nothing is more precious. You are most important to me. Please, you accept these for your books."

"I can't, Viktor."

"Please," he pleaded, "You use these when you read. You think of me when I am not by your side."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, her nose, her other cheek, showering gentle kisses on her face, and then took it in his hands, and kissed her full on the mouth. It was a long kiss, the longest kiss she had received from him. She closed her eyes, and felt a warmth wash over her. He patiently nibbled at her lips, asking them for permission, and she merely responded by returning his kiss.

He finally broke the lock he had on her lips, his eyes had darkened and his breathing had gotten heavier.

She still had her eyes closed. She didn't want to open them. This moment washed away any ugliness that she'd felt before; at this very moment she was the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts. Viktor Krum had just told her she was the most important thing in his life! More important than Quiddich! Her chest rose and fell, as she tried to remember to breathe.

He bent down and nuzzled her ear, kissing her ear lobe, tugging on it gently with his teeth. Hermione let out a soft moan from her throat, spurring Viktor to sprinkle kisses down her neck. Her breathing was staggered, and she clutched his back, as her knees buckled beneath her. _Holy mother of Merlin!_

She felt a burning on her neck, where it joined her collarbone, leaned back her head and brought her hands up to Viktor's hair, pulling gently on it. She had to stop him... she couldn't think. She couldn't talk. She couldn't breathe!

She didn't even hear the mewling sound coming from her own throat, but she did feel dizzy and knew she was about to pass out. Her legs had given out, and Viktor held her up by the sheer strength of his own muscle.

"Viktor..."

He reluctantly broke the suction from her neck, and took in her radiance as her head rolled back.

"What was that?"

He smiled and gave her time to recover. He hadn't intended for things to move this fast, but she was so vulnerable looking, and he knew she had been hurt earlier. He wanted her to know how much she mattered him. This was his way of showing her.

----o-----o-----o-----o

Draco had seen her messenger bag at the usual table. She was probably perusing the stacks for more books. She and those damned books!

He walked past her table and down the stacks. He walked slowly, not wanting to frighten her. He didn't want her to scream, or make a scene. He would merely tell her what he had intended to say.

An odd sort of disappointment was heavy in his chest. He didn't know why he felt the way he did, but he knew once he explained, he would feel better.

He walked carefully, feeling as if he were trespassing on her.

Then he heard whispers. It was two voices, rising lightly from the corner. He approached cautiously.

"_I can't, Viktor."_

"_Please," he pleaded, "You use these when you read. You think of me when I am not by your side."_

Draco froze in place.

He recognized the voices. It was the Bulgarian pureblood with the Gryffindor Princess!

Then he heard a peculiar, soft sound... like the first bite into an overripe fruit. Uncomprehending, Draco dared to peek his head around the stack. Heat suffused his face at what he saw. Krum held Hermione, slanting his lips tenderly over her mouth. Her hands hung uncurled at her side, but as the kisses continued, they lifted to clutch his back.

He watched silently, as Viktor and Hermione came together, taking each other's breaths away. He watched unashamed as a fire burned low in his body. He had not truly seen the beauty of Hermione Granger until this moment, and now, watching her being stroked and caressed made Draco fear he was becoming lost in an obsession.

Shaken, he slid his head down, backing into the stacks, unseen by the two as they kissed. Draco wanted to clench his eyes shut as their murmurs and her soft moan drifted over him. Her pain had been his responsibility. So he forced himself to remain, listening to them breathing.

"_Viktor... what was that?"_

She had been kissed senseless. Not by Potter, but by this Bulgarian Triwizard Champion. Draco wanted to rip his own ears from his head.

It was only hours ago that she was in Potter's arms. And now Krum. She had everyone hoodwinked. Fool that he was, he thought her to be innocent of such carnal pleasures... it was the greatest falsehood Hermione Granger could have bestowed.

----o-----o-----o-----o

He glanced at her while they ate dinner, knowing he would approach her tonight. He had needs that he would make sure she would attend to. He would not let her deny him. He would be sated.

When he saw her rise from the table he followed her quietly, ignoring Blaise's questioning glance at his early departure from dinner.

As they approached a closet door, Draco vaulted forward, frantic to have her.

He ached as he pushed her quickly into the closet, closing the door behind them, muttering a silencing spell with his wand.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

He closed the space between them, uncaring of her sudden jump of surprise. Facing her, he fiercely claimed her mouth, breaking her once-peaceful features. His anger over all that had occurred today was felt in his touch, as he ungently grabbed her arms. A scream lodged in his throat as he forced her mouth open and plunged his tongue into hers.

He was infused with strength, longing and heat.

She groaned against him, pushing at his shoulders, as if ashamed to be touched. Draco refused her, holding her closer to him, remembering the scene from the library.

"I know you want this," he finally breathed harshly. "Whether you admit it or not."

At fifteen he wasn't as skilled as an eighteen year old would be, but Draco had kissed before, and often.

"Tonight is your lucky night," he continued.

He kissed his way down the arch of her throat, and then unbuttoned her blouse. She attempted to grasp his hands, but he shook his head warily at her. He made quick work of the buttons, opening her to him. His eyes took her in, and he closed his teeth on her breast. She sucked in a hiss and her slender fingers clenched in his hair.

"You will not stop me," he promised.

Down her stiff, trembling body he went, dragging his lips and tongue over her flesh. She no longer fought him. She held his head helplessly as he kissed his way back up to her other breast and pushing aside her bra, he suckled.

She cried out, a different sound that what she had voiced before. It was a cry of surrender, of need.

He kissed her fully on the mouth and then urged her head lower. She complied by kissing his neck, opening his shirt, and kissing his chest... she copied what he had done, taking a nipple into her teeth and sucking hard.

_Gods! _He clenched his hands in her hair and pushed her head lower down his abdomen guiding her slowly to her knees.

He quickly wrestled with his own trousers, unzipping them, pushing them down.

"What are you doing?" she panted, "Why are you doing this... I ... I don't know how."

He couldn't give voice to his intentions. He knew what he expected. She knew too.

"Open your mouth," he barely managed to whisper.

She quivered against him.

"Take me in your mouth, dammit!"

She reached up, shaking, and slowly took him in her mouth. She was right. She had never done this before. He reached down and stroked himself slowly, showing her what to do with her hands. He wouldn't last long. His face was creased with pain and need for release. It took everything he had not to choke her, forcing himself down her throat fully.

His legs shook as he reached his peak, and then without warning, he spilled himself in her mouth. She hesitantly began to drink him up and licked him clean.

He hung his head down as he helped her back up to her feet, and zipped up his trousers, not bothering to help her with her buttons.

"Do you love me?" she whispered.

"Don't confuse lust for love, Parkinson." He left her alone in the closet and returned to the Slytherin common room, feeling quite proud that he had just received his first blow job.


	7. The Mark

**Chapter 7: The Mark**

"WANKER!" he spat as he grabbed the blond by his robes and shoved him against the stone wall.

"You never learn, Malfoy" he continued, "Being the rodent that you are, you just can't give it a rest can you!"

"Let go of me, Potter," he seethed, "before I hex you into a new century."

"What's a matter Malfoy?" Harry leaned into Draco's face, his own countenance was flushed with anger. "Were you not _loved _enough as a child? Didn't that Death Eater daddy of yours give you enough while you were growing up?"

Draco had thrown out one arm to push Harry off of him while frantically searching with his other for his wand. He couldn't find the opening of his pocket in time, and Harry had already withdrawn his own wand and bringing it quickly under Draco's chin and forcing Draco's face upward.

"You listen to me, and listen to me good," Harry threatened. "You will leave Hermione ALONE. Understand? Don't go near her, don't bother her, don't even LOOK at her."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, continuing his blind search for the pocket that held his wand. He must be leaning against it, he realized, as he felt the sharp object impressed on his back.

"I'm doing you a _favor, _Potter!" Draco smirked and looked at the stack of Daily Prophet newspapers that he had purchased, now laying strewn across the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. "It's just like the Skeeter woman says, she's a ..."

"DON'T YOU DARE!" The wand now bruised Draco's neck, causing him to swallow deeply, trying to twist and turn from Harry's grasp.

"I'll have you expelled for this, Potter!" the blond promised, "Get your filthy hands off me!"

Harry was on the edge. His hands shook with rage. He no longer needed a reason to withhold it. He had just found out the evening before that the first task would be battling a dragon. He had been upset all night, barely able to sleep. He had somehow managed to get up early, heading down to breakfast before everyone else, hoping to ponder on his own and figure a way out of the tournament. But when he had entered the Great Hall, he'd been cockily greeted by Draco Malfoy with his stack of the Daily Prophet papers. Malfoy had taken great pleasure in reading the article out loud to Harry, and it only took Harry seconds to storm across the room without Draco taking notice as he read.

"Like I care about being expelled!" Harry countered. "It would be worth it, Malfoy! And you'd be saving me from the tournament at the same time, two birds with one stone! I think that's a bargain worth hexing you over and over again!"

Draco struggled against Harry, attempting to push his weight off, and then brought his heel down crashing on Harry's foot.

Harry yelled in agony as he released Draco, allowing the blond to urgently rummage through his robe and withdraw the wand he had so feverishly sought.

Each wand threatened. Their eyes were locked, arms extended, chests expanding in and out with labored breath.

Draco was the first to speak, "She's shagging Krum, Potter. It appears the only qualifications she requires in a wizard is that he's famous and a Seeker."

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Harry tottered on the edge of reason, "They're lies! Rumors that get spread by the feeble minded such as yourself!"

The dawning of a realization splashed over Draco, and he realized the best way to hurt Harry Potter would not be by casting a hex.

"Then why don't you ask her yourself." Malfoy lowered his wand. He knew the most important thing to the boy wonder was his precious golden princess. His precious golden slut.

"Ask her what she does for all those hours she spends in the library," Malfoy said arrogantly. "Believe me, it's got nothing to do with reading! Unless of course they are using the Restricted Section to act out the wizarding version of Kama Sutra!" He straightened his robes and walked to the table, gathering his newspapers.

"You're a right poofter, Malfoy! Not man enough to fight against anyone except girls. That's why you can't leave Hermione alone."

Malfoy spun around to face Harry, nearly raising his wand again, but seeing a movement from his peripheral vision, he smirked and decided against it. "I _saw _her, Potter...it's not like they're discreet or anything... she was practically climbing on top of Krum, shagging him right there in the library for everyone to see!"

"SILENCIO!" Harry yelled as the spell went flying from his wand and whipped over Draco with a force that caused him to take a few steps backwards.

"POTTER!"

Professor Moody dragged his prosthetic leg as he headed directly toward Harry.

"Potter, put down the wand now!" his all-seeing eye spun around in it's socket, "In about 5 seconds we will be joined by an audience of professors and students and I'm sure you don't want to be caught hexing another student do you?"

Draco began yelling silently, no sound coming from his lips, he grabbed at his vocal chords.

Moody pulled at Harry's shoulder, and began dragging him from Draco's presence. "We've much more important things to discuss now, haven't we?"

He pushed Harry forward toward the entrance, as he pointed his own wand behind his back and muttered a counter spell at Draco.

"You'll pay for that!" Draco spat. "You just wait..."

Moody spun around to face Draco and the boy paled. The memory of being transformed into a ferret by this mad ex-Auror froze him into place.

"Just as I thought," muttered Moody, "Good Day, Mr. Malfoy!"

---0----0---0---0

Harry's hair was slicked with sweat, sticking to his forehead. He panted heavily, trying to recover his breath. He was on his haunches and dropped his hands to the ground in front of him, trying to hold up his weight.

"Just... hang on." He panted.

"Harry..." she coaxed.

Their various articles of clothing were scattered on the ground around them... shoes, cardigan, robes, ties and their book bags.

"No," he said, sapped of energy, "Just...Just give me a moment."

"Harry, maybe we should stop here..."

He looked down at her face and saw that she was also in the same state as he was, perspiring, out of breath, and unfulfilled. Her hair was spread out over the grass, she didn't care that it had gotten tangled. Her arms lay motionless at her sides and she closed her eyes, her long lashes locked in thought.

"Hermione," he pleaded. "Let's try it one more time. Just once... I promise."

"Harry, you lay down, this time." she patted the ground next to her. He closed his eyes and knew she would not give up until she was satisfied. "I'll do all the work."

Harry rolled down onto the ground next to her, his large, emerald eyes smiled at her determination. He was a such lucky wizard! She was teaching him something no one else had.

They both waited a few minutes for their breathing to subside, when she reached her hand up slightly, gently clasping Harry's. "Ready?" she inquired softly.

He nodded, looking up into the clear blue sky... he waited. She released his hand.

"_Accio!" _She commanded as she raised her wand. A shoe came flying up to her free hand and she caught it, while still laying with her back flat on the ground.

"See Harry," she explained, "You just really need to concentrate! Just picture the shoe, focus on it, in your mind. Envision it, flying to you. You can do this Harry! I know you can! You must!"

Harry nodded in agreement at Hermione. She was relentless, never giving up in him, forever loyal. That's one of the reasons he loved her. She would never betray him. She didn't lose faith in him, the way that Ron had.

Ron. That was a joke. His best mate for four years now, and he still wasn't talking to him. All because Ron refused to believe he hadn't put his own name in the Goblet. He felt empty not having Ron by his side, but Hermione was there. She hadn't left him.

Hermione wasn't like Ron. She never doubted him. She would always be at his side, no matter what.

He would do this... he would do it not only because his life depended on learning how to summon his Firebolt, but because Hermione believed in him, and was counting on him. He took in a deep breath and exhaled.

They had been at this for almost two hours now, but he still couldn't command objects to ascend to him. The closest they got were several feet away and then they would falter and drop.

"Ok, Hermione," he affirmed, "go and place it down by the rocks on the path there."

Hermione looked at the distance, nearly 100 yards away, scrutinizing his ability. "Are you sure Harry?"

He raised himself up on his elbows, pointed with his wand to the rocks as if commanding her to do it.

She complied, picking up the shoe and running it over to the rocks. She ran back to him, knelt down, and nodded. She was nearly spent.

Harry laid back down, focusing... envisioning...shoe to his hand... shoe to his hand...

"_ACCIO SHOE!" _

A shoe came flying across the field, and firmly landed itself right into Harry's hand.

"YOU DID IT!" She screamed triumphantly.

"I knew you could!" She tackled him, barely giving him time to move the shoe from in between them.

"Oomph!" Harry sputtered as she knocked the wind from his lungs. "Hermione, you're smushing me!"

"Harry you did it! You did it!" She was overcome with pride at his accomplishment, and without realizing what she was doing, she leaned in and kissed him directly on the mouth. It was a quick kiss and over before he knew it; she rested her head on his shoulder and embraced him while he lay beneath her.

"Mione," Harry whispered incredulously.

She gave him a squeeze, bringing them closer together. Harry was abundantly aware of how close they now were. He felt her pressed against him. He wanted to raise his hands to his lips, because he felt her lips still there. But she seemed oblivious to the warmth that was growing between them, or so it seemed to Harry.

He reached up and stroked her hair, closing his eyes. Maybe if they could just stay like this, and he would never have to let her go, he would survive. Maybe if Hermione would always be this close to him, he could face the three impossible tasks, as well as the future that the nightmares foretold.

But he had to know. It nagged at him. Was there any truth at all to what Malfoy had said earlier?

"Mione," Harry murmured, lifting her face to his, and searching her eyes intently. "You know I could never do this without you, don't you?"

She blushed at his praise and smiled in acknowledgment.

"Harry, you'll be fine. You're a very powerful wizard. The most powerful of our age."

Her confidence in him had never waned. Why should he be the one then to doubt her? Still, there was a nagging feeling that wouldn't let him rest easy.

Even though he wanted their physical closeness to continue, he had felt himself hardening at the feeling of her softness pressed against him. He felt ashamed that he would betray their friendship by reacting to her this way.

He carefully lifted her off him, and sitting up, he faced her. He held his hands out to her, and together they pulled each other up.

As they gathered their pieces of clothing that had been strewn around from failed attempts at using the spell, Harry knew what he must do.

"Mione," he asked nervously, "... err, about the Yule Ball."

She was placing the tie back around her neck when he walked up to her to assist.

He raised up her collar and reached to close a button that had come undone in the fray of her lessons.

That's when he saw it. Time stood still.

"What about the Ball, Harry?"

He blinked. His mouth felt dry. He couldn't stop staring. His hands had frozen in the process of gently pulling her collar to the side.

She didn't understand the look on his face. It was first one of bewilderment, then something else flashed in its stead. His face hardened, as if he had put a mask of stone on.

Green eyes flashed up to meet her amber ones.

"Harry?"

He released her collar, looked quickly around for his book bag, and turned to leave without speaking a word to her.

"Harry!" she called after him.

"Harry, what's wrong? Where are you going? "

He stopped in his tracks, breathing deeply, waiting for her to catch up to him. When she came to his side he looked at her accusingly.

"Are you going with Viktor Krum!" It was an accusation more than a question.

She froze in place, her startled look gave her away.

"What?" she searched for words, "Who told you that? Did Viktor tell you that?"

"Then it's true!"

"Yes, well," she hesitated, "Well he did ask me a week ago... and no one else had asked..."

"So you said yes." he confirmed.

"Yes, Harry... I said yes."

Harry wanted to explode. He didn't know why, but he felt betrayed. So much for her being by his side forever! So much for her being loyal.

He stomped off, with Hermione trailing behind him.

"Harry..." she started.

"Does Ron know!"

"What has this got to do with Ron?"

Could she be so dimwitted? She was the one who was supposed to be clever! What does this have to do with Ron indeed! The impact of betrayal burned within him. First Ron, then Hermione, and neither of them understood anything!

"I told you how Ron felt about you Hermione. You _knew_!"

Hermione stopped trying to keep up with him. What the bloody hell was wrong with Harry?

"Harry, are you bi-polar or what? Because one minute we are best mates and the next you're jumping down my throat!"

"Oh that's just too ironic, Hermione! _I'm _the one at your throat?"

"Well what are you going on about then? What does this have to do with Ron?" she asked, "Ron wasn't the one who told me, it was you! He hasn't said a thing to me. Nothing! If he'd wanted to go to the ball with me, he should have plucked up the courage and asked me himself!"

She felt furious. Why was Harry taking Ron's side on this, treating her so poorly after they just worked together for hours on the summoning spell. She would never understand boys. And they said girls were the ones with mood swings!

Next time he wanted to see a shoe fly, she'd throw one at him!

Harry continued to stomp off ahead of her, not caring that she didn't follow. He felt she had violated a trust, violated their bond. Unbeckoned, the image burned in his mind. All he could seem to see at the moment was a deep purple mark on her lower neck. It couldn't have surprised or hurt him more than if he had been looking at a Death Eater mark on her arm. They were both marks of traitors.


	8. Practice

**Chapter 8: Practice**

Hermione wanted to scream. Today could not have possibly gotten any worse. First Harry had wigged out on her, and now she had to suffer through another mass stalking by the Viktor Krum fan club. Honestly! Why wouldn't they just go away and let her study? She knew it wasn't Viktor's fault, but she couldn't help glaring at him as he sat across the table from her. He had tried sitting next to her, but when she heard the surrounding giggles and whispers coming from the table behind them, she shot up and walked to the opposite side of Viktor, almost slamming herself back down in the seat. They were like flies on a dead animal. Not that Viktor was a dead animal. But for some reason she felt truly irritated by the whole thing.

"Hermyninny," he attempted again to whisper to her. This was his fifth attempt at getting her to talk with him, but each time she had raised a finger to her lips and pointed to her book.

She felt restless as she saw him reach his hand across the table.

Realizing that she wouldn't get any work done under these circumstances, she grabbed her bag and headed out. It only took a few strides for Viktor to catch up to her as she marched from the library.

He reached for her hand yet again, and she shook it off. She was not in the mood for his attentions today. She didn't feel like being spied on, followed, and gawked at by his fan club. They had crashed her sanctuary. They destroyed the one place that she found solace and restoration. Not only had they driven her from her refuge where she had always felt peace, but now they trespassed on her privacy. She was constantly under scrutiny and being followed whenever she was near Viktor.

Things had been so sweet when it was just the two of them, but now it had become annoying. She felt miserable and wasn't even sure how to tell him.

"You are angry with me," he stated, watching her face.

Her usually calm countenance cracked as she felt the control slipping.

"Viktor," she tried to explain, "it's not you. It's _them." _Her hands had flown up and gestured in the air, as if pointing to a clutch of people congregated on the ceiling. "Every move you make is watched! I wouldn't be surprised to find that _The_ _Daily Prophet_ is paying them to take photos or get an _inside scoop! _And now they're even in the library!" Her voice trembled, and her eyes brimmed with unwanted tears. She felt so frustrated!

He reached to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him away, shaking her head. "I can't do this. I just can't. Not today." She turned and ran, leaving him watching as she took his heart with her. He wouldn't follow her. She needed some time and space to be alone. He knew what it was like to be hounded.

Ever since becoming not only the world's greatest Seeker, but also the world's youngest professional Seeker, he had known very little peace. That's what had attracted him to Hermione. She was serene and quiet, and most of all, she didn't seek him out. She didn't fawn all over him the way others did, male and female alike. Wherever he went, he was hounded for autographs, photos, and interviews. He was constantly sought after, by everyone except her.

Hermione didn't care that he was Viktor Krum, the famous Quidditch player. She didn't even like Quidditch that much! He smiled as the irony hit him. He rubbed his hand over his face, hoping that she would come back to him soon. He had thought she would be used to the response of fans, being Harry Potter's best friend. If anyone could relate to being under the scrutiny of the world at an early age, it was Harry Potter. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe it bothered her more than he realized.

He would just have to find a way to make it up to her.

She had so much on her mind --- he and Harry would be facing their first task tomorrow, and there was this whole ordeal about the Yule Ball. She had told him she was working on some sort of dance for the Ball. He didn't quite understand it, but he liked when she talked. He could watch her lips move all day and not get tired of her lyrical voice. Her accent was so intelligent --- it was so much more refined than how the girls spoke back home in Bulgaria.

The idea sprang on him. He wasn't expecting such inspiration, but it brought a huge smile along with it. He knew what he would do for Hermione Granger!

As she neared the Great Hall, she could hear the music playing. She knew she was at least thirty minutes early, so she was bewildered by what she heard. She slowed her pace, trying to mentally prepare herself to face him again. It had been several days since Draco Malfoy had hexed her with the _Densaugeo curse_, making her teeth grow enormously long. She would need to steel herself to face him. She armed herself mentally.

Even though she had been healed, she still felt unsure of herself when she was around Malfoy. She knew Madam Pomfrey had done a better job than her own parents (who were dentists), could have done. Her teeth looked even better than before the curse; but knowing Malfoy, he would find a way to rub it in today during practice.

She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and briefly meditated. _Cool, calm, collected ---_don't let him faze you! She was ready for Malfoy. As she turned the corner and entered, she immediately lost all her resolve. She was not prepared for was the sight that greeted her.

She watched, dumbstruck as the two silvery beings came together with a fluidity that was breathtaking. She braced herself by placing an arm against the entrance way. The two platinum blondes seems to wrap around each other like strands of living silver, swirling and curling.

They were elegance itself as they glided across the floor--- grace beyond measure. She had unconsciously brought her free hand up to her mouth, stifling a gasp as Draco dipped his partner low to the ground, bending her backwards, his face inches away from hers, her leg extending high into the air behind him as she descended.

Draco grinned perceptively as he realized they had an audience. His acute senses informed him of her presence. She had come sooner than expected, but he would give her a show she would not soon forget. He had heard the gasp, and knew he had captured her attention. He would hold her hostage, the same way she had done to him in the library.

He lowered his hand across Fleur's face, skimming it gently, before continuing its path downward to the nape of her neck. He moved his arm down to her lower back, raising her up to him forcefully, as they both stood and then poured into their next motion.

Hermione was unnerved. They mesmerized her. This was like no waltz she had seen before! This was something much different; this was so much more. When Fleur came out from a spin, she extended her leg, pointed her toe perfectly and reached her arm back behind her gently. Hermione's heart hammered in her chest.

It didn't even appear that their feet touched the ground; they were floating as if magicked. Hermione's eyes roamed over their bodies, watching every muscle flex, as every limb sang with movement. Fleur had completely surrendered as Draco swiftly carried her into a lift as if she were weightless; her silvery hair flowed behind her as she arched her back.

As he lowered Fleur down from the lift, he seemed to do so in slow motion, bringing her body down to caress his. Hermione shuddered, and goose bumps tickled her skin. For their grand finale his hands reached behind Fleur, lightly dragging down her spine, cupping her buttocks, grinding her close to him before dipping her backwards, as she hooked a leg behind him, hugging his waist with the leg, trapping him against her. He rested his forehead between her breasts before glancing up. Hermione had come undone.

His eyes flashed with satisfaction, before he reached down and gently raised Fleur back up to a standing position. He took both her hands in his, bowing, and he placed a gentle kiss on each one.

"_C'est magnifique_." He said as smiled at her. "Just as expected,_ ma chérie_, you're poetry in motion."

Hermione needed water. She felt parched. Her legs felt as though someone had hexed her with the _Jelly-Legs Jinx_. She had almost forgotten why she had come, when Draco's voice brought her back.

"Granger," he drawled, "are you going to stand there catching flies with your mouth all day, or did you plan on dancing?"

She had no idea what to say to him. She stood mutely at the entrance, and somehow managed to close her mouth.

"Alas, Draco," Fleur purred, "I cannot stay. I must get ready for the ze weighing of ze wands tonight." She kissed Draco on both cheeks, and cooed, "_Merci!_"

Hermione realized that she had a sudden dislike of French.

Draco turned to face Hermione.

"Are you purposefully attempting to hold up the doorway, or are you waiting for me to hex you with the _Tarantallegra_ curse?"

Hermione flinched as she remembered Draco dueling with Harry their second year, and how he caused his opponent's legs to dance uncontrollably with that curse. She pushed herself up and peeled off her jacket as she watched Fleur glide by, blowing a kiss at Draco.

"Adieu," he called out to Fleur.

"Malfoy, it would appear that you don't need me here today. There's really no reason to stay." She wasn't sure why, but she felt tempted to try and prove herself to him. He had unknowingly challenged her.

His grin spread as he watched her: She had laid her jacket down on a nearby table, and begun stretching her arms across her chest, one at a time, limbering them up. If she wasn't planning on staying, she was sure getting comfortable for nothing.

He walked over to the phonograph and put on another album--- a slower, much more seductive piece.

"You must be referring to the warm up with Fleur?"

"Warm up?" Hermione asked with astonishment. "_That _was a warm up?"

_Warm up! That was hotter than dragon's breath! _

His eyes challenged hers. "Granger, when you're ready to witness the _real thing,_ let me know."

He reached his hand out to her, stunning her into silence. "Now be a good girl and dance with me."

"What ... You mean touch you?"

"English _is _your first language, is it not?"

She looked around suspiciously and placed her hands on her hips, trying to figure out what he was playing at. She met his challenge with narrowed eyes and a guarded stance.

"Come on, Granger. I'm not going to savage you--- not yet anyway." He grinned and winked at her.

"Why do I feel like I'll be splattered with pig's blood?" she queried as the image from the Muggle movie _Carrie _came spilling over her.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Do I even _want _to know what goes on in that deranged mind of yours? I'm willing to risk life, limb and feet here, Granger. Let's go!"

She didn't take her eyes off of him as she slowly walked toward him. She noticed his silvery blond hair had fallen down across his forehead, bringing a smile to her lips as she discovered it was no longer glued back with Sleeze-eazy wizarding gel.

"What's gotten into you, Malfoy? I thought you wouldn't be caught dead touching a Muggle-born."

He let out an exaggerated sigh, "It's called dancing for a reason, Granger. Not gabbing. Not fighting. Not even touching. It's dancing." He beckoned her to him with a crook of his finger.

She rubbed her hands onto her jeans before accepting his hand. Her left hand timidly crept onto his right shoulder; his arm supporting hers from underneath as he reached around and rested his hand, between her shoulder blades. She felt him tighten his clasp on her right hand, and then he led her gently, but firmly. There must have been magic in his hand on her back, because he expertly used it to guide her, placing pressure on the heel of his palm when he wanted her to go left, or using his fingers pressing into her firmly but directly guiding her back to him or to the right. He used his hand as the captain of a ship would steer his wheel.

Draco Malfoy was a dance god.

They glided effortlessly across the floor, waltzing in the traditional three counts. She tried to mask her surprise at his mastery, but she felt herself blush when her left hand felt the firmness of his shoulder. His shoulders were not as broad as Viktor's, and his chest wasn't as strong. His arms did not bulge or ripple the way that Viktor's did when he embraced her. Even though Draco was smaller framed than Viktor, somehow Hermione felt intimidated in Draco's arms.

He seemed to be tenser than when she saw him dancing with Fleur. She knew it must be because he had to "lower" himself to dance with her; she was well aware how he felt about her. His palm seemed to be moist as well. Draco couldn't have been nervous, she reasoned; it must be because he's uncomfortable and forcing himself to touch me.

He suddenly leaned into her, shifting his weight he lowered her into a very low dip. Hermione clenched his shoulder and snapped her head up.

"Hold on to your lioness mane, Granger. I'm just testing the waters."

"Malfoy..."

Hermione's heart raced in her chest, and her breath had quickened. Something in her screamed, waving big red flags. _Danger... Danger... _

He held her down, her hair dragging to touch the floor now.

"Extend that shapely leg of yours, Granger." She timidly did so. "Now release your iron grip off of my shoulder, and reach it over your head, toward the wall."

She knew if she let go of his shoulder, he could easily drop her on her head, so she hesitated.

"Ah--- trust must be _earned,_ I see," he whispered huskily. He lowered his face until it was inches from hers. "Let go, Granger." His eyes bored into hers. "Give it to me. Give me that control that you hold on to so desperately." He leaned fully into her, feeling her small, soft breasts press against him. Her eyes fluttered closed.

She had not yet released his shoulder, so he put his lips to her ear. A slightly evil grin crossed his lips. "How about if I call you _Hermyninny_? Would that make you more at ease?"

Her eyes shot open, sparkling with anger.

"Let me up!" she gritted. "Now!"

Instead of complying, Draco lowered his mouth to her earlobe, tugging it gently with his teeth. She sucked in her breath as he lowered his lips to her neck and whispered softly, "What if I call you_ 'Mione_? Would you trust me then?"

She had lowered her leg, no longer interested in continuing the dance. Instead she pushed against Draco with both hands on his shoulders, trying to wrench herself from his hold. Time for the coup d'état. He brushed his lips over hers, not kissing her, but feeling their softness. She pursed hers closed angrily. He chuckled as he nuzzled her ear, easily overpowering her refusal.

"Tell me Granger, will you ride any Seeker's Firebolt, or just the famous ones?"


	9. Wands

**Chapter 9: Wands**

Draco had it all planned out. Parkinson would drink the Polyjuice Potion and sneak into the Gryffindor girls' dorm. It was the perfect plan. Or at least it had been, until Pansy had turned into a jealous shrew and refused to help him. What was her problem, anyway? He had never told her that they were exclusive, so why did she get so worked up when she found him making out with another Slytherin girl? He couldn't even remember the girl's name now, but he grinned at the memory of how eager she had been. He could still feel her under him.

He stretched as he stood, slipped his feet into his lambskin slippers, and headed to the bathroom wearing nothing but his green silk boxers. Kissing didn't seem to do anything for him anymore, he reflected. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the effect it had on his partners, but he just didn't find any satisfaction from it. He needed more. He was ready to make his father proud --- the way all young Slytherins did by their fifteenth year. Draco had turned fifteen during the summer, and he knew that he would have to have shed his virginity by Christmas or his father would hire him a professional to ensure he entered into manhood. This was the way Slytherin fathers had done it for decades, if their sons lacked sufficient prowess.

Draco knew he would never need to seek the services of any professional based on the willingness and availability of the girls that appeared to flock around him ever since the closet incident with Pansy. It would appear that blokes weren't the only ones who talked about such milestones! He should thank Pansy for her gossiping; because of her, there were girls who would brush up against him while reaching over him to get something, or run their feet up his calf while sitting across from him in the Great Hall, or even pass him notes requesting a rendezvous. Perhaps the Slytherin girls knew what was expected of their fifteen year-old male counterparts, which would explain a great deal! His life was good; everything was just spiffing.

Yet there was one small matter that had to be taken care of before he could consider it perfect. He had to pull that high and mighty Gryffindor off her bloody high horse. His plan had to work, whether Pansy helped or not. He wasn't about to let it go now.

"Oi, looks like you were busy last night. Whose heart did you break this time?" Blaise stopped toweling his face to look at Draco.

Draco shrugged as he shuffled in. "The dark haired fifth year --- what's-his-name's older sister."

"You might want to take care of the evidence, mate. Or were you intending to wear it as a badge of conquest?"

Draco eyed his reflection in the mirror and flinched. He turned his head to the right and left, leaning it sideways as he took in the purple marks that trailed all the way to his collarbone. "Feckin' hell." He winced. "She's a bloody vampire."

He turned to his best friend, who was chuckling to himself. "Wipe that damn grin off your face and do the honors, mate."

Blaise lifted his wand and whispered a few words, magicking away the hickeys.

After inspecting Blaise's handiwork, Draco leaned down and commenced his morning tooth-brushing ritual. "Wenneedanewplan." His toothpasted mumble was impossible to understand.

Blaise combed his dark black hair into place and responded, "Spit and rinse, Draco. Don't be so primitive!"

A few good gargles later, Draco flashed his Cheshire teeth at the mirror, inspecting its gleam. Running his tongue over them, he continued, "We need a new plan. Pansy won't help. She turned into a green-eyed bitch since finding me with what's-her-name last night."

Blaise rolled his eyes and spoke to his friend's pale reflection in the mirror. "Your timing couldn't have been worse could it? Merlin, what now? Where are we going to find another girl to help us?" He put the comb down and turned his head from side to side, eyeing his dark, wavy hair as it set into place. "It's just a good thing that Snape extended the deadline another week!"

"Yeah, well, that's another thing. There's very little Wolfbane Potion in his storage room; he's running low. So whenever we do this, it will have to be quick. We won't have much time."

"Pity we can't do it ourselves."

Draco smirked. "I wouldn't mind being a girl for a few hours --- even if it was a Gryffindor girl. Imagine the possibilities!"

They turned to face each other and exchanged knowing looks. Their eyes sparkled with laughter, and their smiles broadened as they mutely conveyed their thoughts.

"Can you imagine having unlimited access to knockers! Merlin, hours of fondling yourself!" Blaise chuckled.

"The places I'd explore..." added Draco.

They both burst out laughing at the suggestion.

"To go where no other man has gone --- experiencing the female orgasm!" said Blaise with a laugh.

"No, no, no." Draco slapped his mate's back. "_Multiple orgasms!"_

"Wretched shame Polyjuice Potion won't allow us to cross gender," Blaise concluded with a sigh.

Draco nodded in agreement. "Pity." The possibilities they had both envisioned slipped away reluctantly.

"So what's plan B?"

"It's not as good, but it will do," Draco explained. "The Durmstrang boys are sharing our dorms, right?"

Blaise nodded cautiously, having an idea of where this was going.

"So we have ample access to Krum."

Blaise raised his eyebrows at the daring of his best friend. "Are you sure you want to go that route, mate? I mean, this is Viktor Krum we're talking about!"

"And? We just need to work out the timing! We only have enough potion for one person. Pansy isn't going to help anymore. We don't have anyone else who is close enough to a Gryffindor at the mo'."

"But Krum is massive!" Blaise shuddered. "If this comes back at us, we're dead!"

Draco eyed his reflection confidently in the mirror before slipping off his boxers and walking over to the shower stalls.

"Listen, Blaise, I already tested a bit of the potion last night, on what's-her-name. I can tell you that it does need a bit of fine-tuning before it's complete, but we're very close. I'm not about to let this glitch detour me. So what if he's massive? So what if he's the all-powerful famous seeker. He's still just another bloke with all the same working bits as you and me."

Blaise disagreed, "No, mate, I'm sure his bits are much stronger and larger than yours and mine put together!"

"We just need a few minutes!" Draco argued. "Since Pansy won't sneak in and exchange the bottles, we move on to this plan. I can make it a birthday gift, as Krum. She will never suspect a thing. And besides, this is _Granger_ we're talking about. I'm sure that she hasn't even come close to Krum's bits yet!"

"How did you work out that it's her birthday?"

"Intellect, my dear boy --- it's called research. Some Muggle once said, _Hold your friends close but hold your enemies closer. _It happens to be great advice --- even if it did come from a Muggle."

"He'll kill you if he finds out. He's a bloody ape, Draco! A bloody, _massive _ape!"

Draco turned on the shower and stepped in, running his hair under the steamy water.

"Blaise, hasn't anyone ever told you: It's not the size of the wand that matters; it's the magic it wields!"

"Yeah, yeah." Blaise turned to exit the bathroom. "But the bloke that said that had a small wand!"

Blaise had his back turned to Draco, so he didn't see the bottle of shampoo come flying over the stall, hitting him squarely between his shoulder blades.

0----0----0----0----0

Harry passed the first task due to his flying ability. He was quite agile on his broom, and thanks to Hermione he was able to summon it to him without a problem. Fleur and Cedric had been charred by their dragons, and Krum had accidentally crushed several of his dragon's real eggs. Harry had the fastest, most effective method for recovering his egg. He also recovered his friendship with Ron. Harry felt happy and relieved that his friend had finally come to the realization that he would never undergo the danger of these tasks just for attention or eternal glory. But with the renewed friendship came guilt.

Ron was in a panic, pressuring Harry to quickly find a date for the Yule Ball before the only girls left were trolls. Harry knew whom he wanted to go to the ball with, but she was obviously going with someone else. He would have to set his sights elsewhere.

He couldn't stop thinking of his other best friend. It seemed like now that Ron was at his side, he had somehow managed to muck things up with Hermione. He had avoided her since the summoning lessons. Had she not come to wish him well at the first task, he would not have sought her out. He wasn't sure how to deal with her yet.

Harry was still quite sore and bruised from the first task. He ached all over. He slowly and quietly descended down the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room. He had not expected to see her sleeping form on the overstuffed sofa. Harry had come down to prepare for another meeting with his godfather. But there she was before him, like an angel, Harry couldn't help being drawn closer.

He took in every contour, shadow, and curve as he silently observed her. The flames from the fireplace had died down to soft, fiery embers, and the gentle glow added to the already breathtaking sight of Hermione Granger's sleeping form.

Fearing he would wake her, his approach was cautious. His strained muscles seemed to relax being near her. Standing over her, she looked so small, so childlike. So innocent.

He remembered the anger he'd felt when he'd seen the love bite on her neck. He reasoned that it must be because he was feeling protective of her, and possibly of Ron, too.

He knelt down by her side, reaching out his hand to her hair, wanting to lower it, to feel its texture. His hand hovered for a tad longer, and his fingers flexed with want. If only he could drag his knuckles across her cheek. If only he could watch her eyelashes part as he placed a kiss on her lips.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to snog his best friend! He felt immediate remorse trickle down from his throat into his chest; releasing a deep sigh of frustration, he balled his hand into a fist. Something inside his chest ached more than his battered body.

He leaned in and listened to her even breaths; his own breathing was short and deep. "Mione," he barely whispered. She did not stir. "I'm sorry." He had said it more for himself than for her. He didn't understand why he had been so enraged at her. She hadn't deserve it.

_You want her for yourself. _He couldn't quite come to terms with that thought.

She'd probably smack him if she knew he was this close to her. He smirked when he thought she would decapitate him if she knew what he was thinking. What right did he have to think about snogging her, when he had all but pushed her at Ron? He slowly brought his knees up to his chin, leaned on them, and wrapped his arms around his legs; closing off the strain he felt in his back. She hadn't even known that she had kissed him. His first kiss, and she hadn't even realized it.

_It wasn't that kind of kiss. _

He eyed her lips and smiled, his emerald eyes shining with affection. Those lips had touched his just days ago. He sighed deeply, remembering that those very same lips had also snogged Viktor Krum probably within hours of kissing him!

_It's a good thing you don't know what you do to me, Hermione Granger. _ He smiled, almost shyly, whispering to her soundlessly. "Because if you knew... and if you had _really _kissed me, more than just a friendship kiss... or if I had kissed you, that would have been it for me. I can handle anything but that."

He was fascinated by how peacefully she slept. Her dreams were not disturbed with nightmares of Voldemort. She would never be awakened by an agonizing burning of a scar. He hoped that it would always be like this for her. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect her, to pull her into his arms and hold her close, keeping her locked next to his heart forever.

_Now who's the traitor?_

He knew that Ron fancied Hermione, but he couldn't help the way he felt. All hell would probably break loose if Ron knew. All hell would probably break loose if Hermione knew!

He struggled with this inner conflict, not wanting to ruin the best friendship he could ever wish for, yet not wanting to let Viktor Krum take her away from him, all because he was too slow-witted to do anything about it. He had already made the mistake of not asking her to the Yule Ball in time, and now he would have to find a substitute that could never replace her.

He saw the blanket she had wrapped up in had fallen over the edge onto the floor. He reached for it, intending to tuck her in. She had jeans and a t-shirt on; one arm was curled under her pillow while the other fell over the side of the sofa. She wasn't his girlfriend, he regretfully realized, as he lightly replaced the blanket over her. He had no claim on her. He should really get his priorities straightened out: Was he willing to destroy their friendship over his own selfish feelings for her?

It was the crackling sound of the embers that broke into his reverie.

"Harry." Sirius' voice croaked in a whisper as his head raised out of the burning remains of the fire. "Are you alone?"

"It's just Hermione, Sirius. She's asleep."

"Back in thirty, Harry. We must be alone," said Sirius, lowering his head back into the dying flames.

She began to stir as she heard voices, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Harry?" she mumbled sleepily.

She stretched her free arm up above her head, and he watched her toes extend to the edge of the sofa. Such a luxurious stretch! It caused something in him to tighten as he watched her arch her back toward him.

"Whatcha' doing?" She looked around her, blurry eyed. "Who were you talking to?"

He needed desperately to talk to his godfather, but he also wanted Hermione to sleep by his side for the rest of the night. He would be happy just watching her sleep.

"You fell asleep on the sofa, Mione," he whispered to her, extending a hand to help her sit up. Her hair was a mass of tangled curls, falling across her shoulders and down her back. He could resist no longer.

Reaching down, he took a curl between his fingers and pulled on it gently, feeling of its texture. He knew if he had leaned down and buried his face in her hair, he would smell that jasmine fragrance that was hers.

"I'm a complete arse, Hermione. Can you forgive me for being so bloody useless all the time?"

He didn't take his eyes off of her curl, liking its feel, he wrapped it around his index finger. "If I can battle a dragon, I suppose I can face my best friend and at least admit that much yeah?"

"Oh, Harry." She leaned and tousled his hair. "What am I going to do with you?"

_I can think of several things!_

"For starters," he tried to steady his voice, "you can let me make it up to you. Come with me tomorrow afternoon, That is..." ---_this can't sound like a date ---" _and help me gather up the Nirvae."

She scrunched her face at him. "And this is making it up to me _how_?"

"Faeries." He lowered his voice back down to a whisper.

"What!" She jumped at his revelation, her remaining sleepiness completely shattered.

"In the forest, where the Nirvae is, there are faeries there."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" She folded her legs up onto the sofa and leaned forward with anticipation.

"I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. But now I need to redeem myself, so I'm digging down deep and pulling out all the stops."

Her mind swam around the rare opportunity to see the tiniest of magical creatures in the wizarding world. Harry was taking her to see faeries! She had read so much about them, both on the Muggle Internet, (which was all rubbish), and whatever she could place her hands on in Hogwarts' library. There were only certain areas of the world that faerie colonies existed now, and they were always guarded from the outside world.

"Harry," she said dreamily, "will we really get to see them? I mean, aren't there special spells of protection or something meant to keep us out?"

"A guardian," he said solemnly.

"A guardian? What kind of guardian?"

"I'm not sure, but each colony has its own guardian of protection. We will need the invisibility cloak as well as my Firebolt."

Her back stiffened at the mention of his broom, crashing her back to reality. She had come to the common room in the evenings to not only escape Viktor Krum's fan club, but also to escape Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy had gone too far. He was such a wretched letch! He was evil personified. His personage, dressed in all black, came blazing into her mind. The dark clothing which made his pale features stand out even more. He was like the Angel of Death --- _except scratch the 'angel' part!_ Obviously he had wanted to torture her her with his treatment during their last dance practice. The unmitigated gall --- holding her so close, whispering in her ear, touching her lips...

She swallowed and tried to remember what Harry had said. All she could manage was a frown as she bit at her lower lip. Harry had mistaken the gesture for one of nervousness.

"I know you don't like flying, Hermione. But there's no other way to that side of the lake."

She cleared her throat and raised her chin. "Harry, do you think I'm a slag?"

"What!" he sputtered.

"I know what everyone is saying about Viktor and me. And the article in _The Daily Prophet_ has everyone thinking that you and I..."

"Hermione," Harry said firmly, "that's rubbish!" He ran his hand through his hair and fumbled for the right words. "You're friendly. Not in a bad way. You just like to show your friends that you care about them. You've got a big heart, ya' know?"

He thought back to her kissing him and knew that if he was going ever have the bollocks to speak to her about it, now was the time.

He looked up from his glasses, his cherubic smile fainting away. "There is one thing." He paused.

She waited for him to continue.

"I mean, I know we're best friends. I know you like Viktor." He looked at her reaction to see if she would deny any of it, but she merely nodded. He shifted and fidgeted, not sure how to continue. Not sure if he _should_ continue. The time was ripe, and the pain from his inner battle outweighed the caution warnings.

"I'm a big girl, Harry, spill it."

"I would never do anything to lose you, Mione. You know that, right? You know that you're the most important girl in my life?" His face flushed crimson as he called upon the courage that he had used to overcome the Hungarian Horntail. _You can do this, you bleeding amateur!_

"What is it, Harry?"

"When you kissed me a few days ago, I know you didn't mean anything by it or anything. I mean, I know you don't think of me in any other way than your best mate. But..."

She straightened up on the sofa. Had she kissed Harry? She quickly flipped through the pages of her memory searching for the moment. Then she remembered.

"Oh, Harry!"

"No, it's not that I minded or anything like that... because... well... because I didn't ... mind. I mean... I don't mind. I don't mind at all." He took off his glasses in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her when he continued. "That is to say, if you want to do that again any time, I'm okay with it."

She smiled at him, seeing his discomfort. All this time she had thought that Harry never saw her as a girl. In her mind, she was just one of the guys. But now just maybe Harry had realized she was indeed a girl.

It was then that the thought hit her. "Harry, was that your first kiss?"

He looked back at the fireplace, willing Sirius to come out and save him. He felt awful. He was nauseated and butterflies were warring in his stomach. He knew Ron fancied Hermione, and Hermione fancied Krum. Bugger this!

He inhaled deeply. Now or never mate, now or never. He turned to her, and grasped hold of her shoulders. Hermione had no idea what he was thinking! She wasn't sure why her head was spinning or her heart was pounding. He completely ignored the adrenaline that raced through his veins, and even though some small voice inside his head was telling him what he was doing was wrong, he didn't care! He needed her at this very moment. He needed to feel what it was liked to be properly kissed, and he knew it was Hermione Granger, his best friend, that he wanted to experience this with.

"I can do better, Mione!" His green eyes seemed to grow black with intent. "It was my first kiss, but it should have been like this."

He pulled her to him without warning or permission. Their lips came together, and Harry nearly exploded with need. She gasped inwardly at the force that pressed down on her lips. He wasn't gentle; he was hungry. Her conscience warned her that they were doing something that friends shouldn't do. But she liked it. She didn't want to stop, but she knew she shouldn't be doing this while she was dating Viktor. Harry moved one hand from her shoulder to the nape of her neck, adhering her to him, not wanting her to escape. Even with his eyes closed, he saw black spots behind his lids, and he had the same feeling he got before he fainted from being hit on the head by a Bludger.

Hermione was the first to pull away, looking at Harry's dazed state. "Sorry!" It was all she could manage before she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Harry collapsed on the sofa, taking over the empty space she had abandoned. He groaned loudly, wishing the damn Hungarian Horntail had done him in.

He picked up the cushion she had been holding and smacked his face several times. What. An. Idiot! Could he be any more of a greenhorn? He had done the unforgivable; he had betrayed her as a friend and taken advantage her trust. Painfully, he lowered himself next to the fireplace waiting for the return of his godfather. He desperately needed advice!


	10. Meetings

**Chapter 10: Meetings**

Harry paced back and forth in the dark cave. It was dank with moisture and chilled with the November frost on the walls. He could see his breath and tried keeping his gloved hands warm by tucking them into his jacket pockets. His godfather sat on one of the rocks, attempting to build a fire for both of them by using his wand to ignite the few pieces of wood they had gathered. He would not have much time to spend with Harry, but he knew that his teenage godson needed to talk with him. After so many desperately lonely years in Azkaban, it was a relief to be in the company of a loved one--- especially this enigmatic young wizard, who happened to be the son of his best friend.

"I've mucked things up royally, Sirius!" Harry continued his pacing.

"Harry, do stop your pacing and come and sit next to the fire. I can't make heads or tails of what you're going on about."

"It's Hermione," Harry explained, still pacing. "How could I be such an idiot?"

"What's happened with Hermione?"

Harry blushed as he ducked his head, stopped pacing, and kicked at the ground. "I kissed her, Sirius. I don't know what got into me! One minute I'm reasoning that there was no way I'd do it, and the next I had my lips on her, eating her face off."

He buried his hands in his face. "She's my best friend, and I snogged her!" Harry quietly admitted. "Ron fancies her! I knew how he felt about her! And Hermione is dating _The Proud Son of Durmstrang." _Sirius grinned at Harry's obvious jealousy.

"Ah, young love." Sirius smiled. "Harry, you really do need to come and sit down, you're making me dizzy with all that pacing!"

Harry complied, but he refused to look his godfather in the eye. He preferred to try and remain as invisible as possible by gazing into the fire. "What if she hates me now?"

Sirius pulled out a flask of warmed butterbeer. If there was any time to initiate his godson into a discussion about the proverbial birds and the bees, now was the time. He was going to need sustenance for this discussion. He opened the flask and took a long swig from it. Smacking his lips together, he offered Harry the flask. When Harry declined Sirius shrugged and kept the flask in his hand.

"Harry, now might be a good time to tell you a bit more about the Marauders." He then followed Harry's gaze in to the flames, summoning the memories of years past.

"Not sure where to begin with this, or even if it's my place to tell you. But it seems appropriate, so they'll have to forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds."

Harry looked up at him, questioning with his eyes.

"You know about James, Remus and I--- and later _Pettigrew_." He spat the last name out as if it were rotten meat. "Well, we were closer than any three friends had ever been. We were brilliant together! There was nothing that could stop the omnipotent, massively popular, and extremely handsome Marauders. Oh, I almost forgot to mention modest, very modest!" He chuckled at his own description and continued. "Nothing could separate us. No power could divide us."

Sirius smiled at the fond memory and inhaled deeply. "And then along came a breathtaking beauty: Miss Lily Evans. She had more intellect, more maturity, and more magic than the three of us put together. There was no other witch that could compare to her."

Harry smiled fondly at the description of his mother, and something in him longed to see her as Sirius could see her in his mind's eye.

"She could have had anyone. She was the one witch that every wizard wanted. We all loved her, I suppose, even Remus, although he never acted on it. He was much more resolute in his friendship than I." Sirius ran a hand through his hair and continued. "I was quite full of myself back then. All the young witches stroked my ego. You see, Harry, I was quite the rogue in my day. You wouldn't know it now, but back then, I kept the young ladies busy."

Harry grinned, remembering the few times he had seen the trio: Padfoot, Prongs, and Moony, in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Sirius Black was an extremely good-looking wizard, with a strong build, long thick black hair, and a winning smile dented with deep dimples.

"There was one witch, however, who didn't accept any of my advances. No matter how determined I was." Sirius looked up at Harry, hesitating. "Yes, well, we won't go into too much detail here. Just suffice it to say I made a fool of myself trying to win your mother's attention. I didn't know at the time that she had her heart set on another. Neither had your father seen fit to tell me that he was smitten by the very same witch."

"Well, I guess we know who she picked." Harry smiled broadly, proud of his father and pleased with the opportunity to tease his godfather.

"Sadly, she never allowed the Black charm work its magic on her. But there was a moment." Sirius looked back into the fire. "A wonderful moment that I shall never regret or forget. It's one of those memories that I held on to while the Dementors surrounded me, trying to suck every ounce of happiness from me. She was one of those pearls that kept me alive." His face had hardened as he spoke of his time in Azkaban. He went silent for a few minutes before continuing.

Harry waited patiently while Sirius seemed to be replaying the memory over again in his mind.

"I kissed her." He had almost whispered it. "I put every ounce of charisma, desire, and affection I could manage into that one kiss." His eyes were young again, sparkling with the sight they could almost see in the fire.

"It was after a dinner we'd had in Hogsmeade. Remus and James were in detention. The three of us were supposed to take Lily out to celebrate her perfect scores (again), but I was given the honor, since they had managed to get caught--- ah well, that's another story in itself." He looked as if he wanted to deviate for a moment, but he plunged forward with his story.

"I don't know if it was the candlelight, the music, the way the entire room lit up when she laughed, or if it was her impenetrable emerald eyes. I was smitten on the spot. Me---_t__he _Sirius Black---master wizard, wealthy wonder, and Hogwarts' most sought after rogue. I melted at the very sight of her. No sooner had we left the tavern then I grabbed her---and well..."

Harry shifted his weight, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the idea that his godfather had snogged his mother! This was a revelation he wasn't expecting!

Sirius felt nervous about relaying any further detail to his best friend's son. "Anyway, I knew no witch had ever been impervious to the best snogger in Hogwarts! That is, until your mother came along."

Harry laughed at Sirius' description of his own sexual prowess and Sirius chuckled at his own expense as well. He had long ago come to terms with the true love that was shared between James and Lily. No one can compete with true love. He smiled apologetically at the teen and shrugged. "We both know the better man won."

"History has an odd way of repeating itself, Harry. Your little Hermione reminds me of Lily. She has all the same qualities. And if I'm not mistaken, I am sure more than one wizard or two are interested in her, if they haven't started queuing up for her already."

Harry nodded at Sirius' astute description of Hermione.

Sirius drank deeply from the flask. "If you want Hermione Granger, Harry, you'll need to be prepared to win her. Witches of her caliber don't come along every day. I'd say once every generation!" He stood and stretched, knowing their time together must end for now. "We can't choose whom we love, Harry. It just happens. But I can tell you this much: I will never forget or regret that kiss I gave Miss Lily Evans. Although there was a part of my heart that always held out hope, at least I knew---I had done everything in my power to let her know how I felt."

After a short pause, Sirius continued. "I could have lived my whole life wondering, Harry. If I hadn't kissed her, I would never have known. It would have eaten away at my soul, _What if it was supposed to be me?" _Harry smiled at the confidence that this man had shared with him. He looked at Harry with an affectionate smile. "Thank goodness for true love, eh? Otherwise you and I would not be here today, having this conversation."

Harry nodded as his godfather stood and stretched. "Let's put out the fire, Harry. You need to get back." They both kicked at the dirt and smothered the short-lived fire.

"Now there is just one more thing," Sirius said. "The least I can do is share a little of the famous Black technique with you. There may be some old roguish charm still left. I don't like the sound of the eating-her-face-off." He laughed at the teen as he put his arm around his shoulder. "We can't have that now, can we? After all, you're James Potter's son!"

0----0----0----0

Blaise had been following Viktor Krum around for two days. He was trying to be as surreptitious as possible, but it was difficult to not appear as if he had been stalking him, just as the fan club had done! Draco needed some thing from Krum: a sample of his hair, saliva, or blood. The easiest of these would obviously also be the most preferable: his hair. There was no other way to gather the other two ingredients without being killed on the spot.

Thus began Operation Bulgaria. They attempted to pinch his comb, but his hair was cut so short that he never had any left any follicle remnants. They confiscated his used towels after he had bathed, but were almost relieved not to find any body hair on it after feeling rather perverse by searching for it. Blaise had even tried to pinch the Bulgarian's fork after dinner one night, but the damned Seeker had eyes in the back of his head, and grabbed it up with his plate, at the last minute. Apparently he was trying to impress Granger by carrying his own plate into the kitchen so the house-elves didn't have to clean up after him. Draco had him pegged as whipped by the Gryffindor, and his best mate tended to agree.

This morning, Blaise was in the bathroom with Viktor, combing his hair, brushing his teeth, and checking out his reflection in the mirror, waiting for Krum to finish shaving. He tried to appear as detached as possible. It didn't work.

"We have problem." Viktor glared at Blaise.

"We do?" Blaise tried to respond with a confused look.

"You want autograph; fine. After autograph, you stop following me."

Blaise nearly choked at the accusation. "I'm not following you!"

"Yes, you and the pale one always follow me. You the same as those girls."

Blaise felt the blood rush to his fine Italian dark features as he tried to deny it. "No, no Krum, you've made a mistake! Look, I'm not sure what you think, but I'm not following you, and I don't want your autograph."

Blaise couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated by the hulking Seeker. He wanted to kill Draco for not being there to help defend himself. This was all his bad idea!

Viktor sized up the young Slytherin and crossed his arms in front of his broad, muscular chest. He narrowed his eyes. "I like girls," he said resolutely. "No boys."

_Draco Malfoy, I could Avada Kedavra your arse right now!_

"I'm no fudge-packer, Krum! You've got it wrong! I can't speak for Draco, but I like girls too!" The younger man was indignant at the insinuation.

The muscle-bound Bulgarian stepped closer to Blaise, almost threatening him. The young Italian fervently wished his best friend were here to see him die.

_Forget Avada Kedavra Draco! Let me spend hours making you suffer with the Cruciatus curse._

"You don't want autograph. You don't want ... " He searched for an appropriate word, but couldn't seem to find one. "What you want?"

_I want to live! Just let me live long enough to kill Draco!_

Why did he have to be the one doing the dirty work, while Draco Malfoy was off being romanced by none other than the Head Girl, the Slytherin Virgin Fairy, Melanie Payne! So what if the girl was determined to be Draco's vamp; there was a mission here to take care of!

_You want Payne? I'll show you Pain!_

Blaise thought quickly and grasped for an answer. "Listen Krum, I'm not sure how things are done at Durmstrang. But here in Hogwarts, the House of Slytherin is serving as your host. Therefore we have your best interests at heart. If it appears that we are overly attentive, then I apologize. We just want to make sure you feel at home during your stay."

Viktor eyed the Italian, questioning his sincerity.

After several seconds of scrutiny he concluded. "The sons of Durmstrang are grateful to the House of Slytherin. You and the pale one should help others with this hospitality. I am fine."

"Yes, yes, of course," Blaise said, most relieved that he was still amongst the living.

"The pale one and I thank you!"

Maybe they could have Parkinson get a saliva sample after all.


	11. Riddles

**Chapter 11: Riddles**

No one could strut like Draco Malfoy. He had made it an art form. His arms swayed as his shoulders slowly moved to and fro, and his chin was hiked up a few inches. When that was combined with his trademark Malfoy pompous grin and silvery-grey, hooded eyes, he could part the waves of students in a hallway the way the Muggle Moses parted the sea. It wasn't just that he looked like the very essence of scintillating seduction, he _knew _he looked like sex on legs. And that's what probably kept the future Old Matrons Club, led by none other than Hermione Granger, at bay. That had to be the reason she was avoiding him. Odd though---he had noticed he wasn't the only male in Hogwarts that wasn't graced with Her Ladyship's presence. Krum, Potter, and Weasley all seemed to be short one Gryffindor as well. No matter, he would be seeing her soon enough, and he couldn't help but smile as he mentally reviewed his plans for the unsuspecting Muggle-born.

A group of giggling Slytherin third-year girls whispered and wiggled their fingers in waves as he passed them. _"Good Morning, Draco!"_ They were nearly singing his name! He merely nodded in their direction, and they spontaneously combusted into a fit of more giggles.

It had to be the new rumors set afire by the lads of Slytherin, he reflected as he walked down the hallway, suddenly bored with the continued whispers and stares, and the gaggle of giggling girls. Melanie Payne usually was quick about her conquests, but it seemed that she had decided to deflower Draco one petal at a time. "Obviously the girl has great taste, going for quality above quantity," he mused.

His lower abdomen warmed at memory of her languishing slow kisses. She had told him that he was possibly the best kisser she had come across in her seven years at Hogwarts. He unconsciously puffed his chest out just a bit further, rolling his shoulders back. What he liked most about Melanie was her creativity. She always came prepared with visual aids during her lessons. When she first heaved a huge carpetbag onto the table he thought of Granger for a moment, with her stack of endless books that she lugged around in her messenger's bag. But then when Melanie started to hum as she pulled out a long phoenix feather and satin ties, all thoughts of the saintly know-it-all dissipated like the pop after an apparition. Thank the powers that be for the Head Girl's private quarters!

It wasn't the first time his father had been wrong. If Lucius Malfoy had gotten his way, Draco would have been attending the all-boys school at Durmstrang! Luckily Draco's mother had won that argument, and now Draco was basking in the glorious aftermath of the best decision his family had ever made for him! It was great being Draco Malfoy!

"Oi! Pale One!"

Draco paused to let his best friend catch up to him. The girls around him seemed utterly disappointed that his morning catwalk strut had been interrupted. They soon were rewarded when the tall, dark Italian joined the milky, flaxen-haired Seeker, and both sauntered off, deep in conversation. In addition to a certain emerald-eyed, raven-haired Gryffindor resident hero, Blaise and Draco were the girls favorite eye candy. The Slytherins beat Potter overall in the fantasy Dream Boy list because they had the added allure of being naughty. Everyone knew that girls didn't melt like butter in the hands of the good boys---it was the naughty ones they all wanted. Almost all. Draco couldn't help but recall the nagging reminder of one particular girl that was not affected. But that would soon change!

"So, what news? Any luck?" Draco asked.

"I'm lucky to be alive!"

"Now, now. It couldn't have been that bad! Krum doesn't seem _that_ dark!"

Blaise was ready to clobber his friend over his fair head. "That's because it wasn't _your _arse on the line! The bleeding ape thought I was volunteering my closet to house his broomstick, you great peacock!"

Draco guffawed at the revelation, and put his arm around Blaise.

"All for the cause, boy-o. All for the cause."

Blaise shrugged Draco's arm off of him and pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket, stuffing it into Draco's robe. "It's his razor. It still has bits of whiskers and even a few drops of blood this morning. He tossed it away and got a new razor out." He paused and then added, "You know, he appeared overly perturbed today. I don't think your Miss Granger has been very forthcoming to our Durmstrang guest. He seemed a bit... bothered."

"She's not mine." _Not yet._ "This could work in our favor," Draco slowly deduced.

"Since this is the last ingredient needed, we should be ready to go tonight. What about Granger. What's the plan on getting her to meet him?"

Draco had the habit of rubbing his chin as he thought. He needed this to be flawless. One slip and it wouldn't work; they would be found out.

"Right." He went into leadership mode. "The healing potion is ready. I purchased a special bottle for it. We need to keep Krum busy so he doesn't go and hunt Granger down."

Blaise conspired with his friend. "Pansy?"

"Right track, wrong pony ," Draco explained. "If Krum is as... bothered... as you say, I think the poor lad needs a bit of comfort. And there is only one girl I know of that can handle the likes of him. She carries a big bag of tricks with her."

"What if he doesn't go for her?"

"Blaise, Blaise, Blaise..." Draco shook his head in disappointment. "You obviously haven't had the pleasure of being introduced to Miss Melanie's ...assets. If you had, you wouldn't ask that question."

The boasting put off his friend. "Yeah, well, that's because I've been busy dodging massive Bulgarian threats to my person! In the meantime, you have been playing parlor boy to the Virgin Fairy! She'll tire of you soon enough."

"Jealous, are we?" Draco drawled.

"Bite me!" Blaise responded with a scowl.

"I would, but you might like it ... and I'm straight as a board, mate."

"Just remember, Draco," Blaise countered, "the higher you are, the greater the fall!"

Draco fast-forwarded the remainder of his plan in his mind. Thinking of a pristine priss high on her pedestal, he responded, "That's what I'm counting on!"

0----0----0----0

Hermione hadn't brought any books with her. She had plans to relax. While most of the students were at Hogsmeade, she would spend the day at her leisure. If only the gnawing sensation would let her be. She hadn't slept well for two nights---not since Harry had kissed her. She had managed to avoid him the next morning, and for the greater part of the following day. Unfortunately, he had cornered her last night and asked her to meet him at the lake so they could gather the last ingredient they needed for their potion.

She looked out over the lake, remembering the awkward silence that had ensued between them as he came and sat next to her in the common room. For one of the few times in her life, Hermione was speechless. She wasn't sure what she should say to the boy whom she had always considered to be her favorite person in the entire world. He was only a boy, after all; yet he carried the weight of the wizarding and Muggle worlds on his shoulders. No one allowed him to forget who he was. No one let him forget he was the "Boy Who did this and that." Just let him be "a boy." Full stop. Her heart ached for him. She knew he regretted kissing her. He had probably done it on some crazy impulse. But now, knowing noble Harry, he would try and follow through and make it right.

That was one thing she couldn't accept. She couldn't accept a pity date. She didn't want Harry to feel obligated to try and pretend he wanted more from her than just a trial kiss between friends. She would set him straight today.

"Which do you prefer?" he asked.

She jumped at the voice as he came up behind her. She quickly turned to face the lanky teen. His hair had grown unusually long this year, she noticed, as it blew around his face in the high noon breeze. He held out a long, slender, black velvet cloth in one hand and his black Gryffindor robe emblazoned with the lion's crest in the other.

She quirked her head to the side, noticing that he leaned on his broomstick in an appealing kind of way. Harry Potter was a handsome boy! She had always thought he looked striking in his Quidditch robes and uniform. She especially liked his leather gloves, for some odd reason. Today he had on a simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt ,and a dark grey hoodie. Yet he looked... _magically delicious. _Her face turned scarlet, and she quickly looked down at her feet.

"Mione?" he asked softly

"What are those for?" She gestured with her hand, not mustering the courage to look up yet.

"What were you thinking about right now?" He edged toward her.

"Nothing," she lied.

"Mione," he said a bit more seriously. "What were you thinking about? Just before you looked away?"

"Cereal," Hermione deadpanned.

He edged closer, until he was inches away from her. She had to look up to him to meet his eyes and wondered when he had gotten so tall. Harry didn't say a word. He merely looked deep into her eyes, as if he wanted to perform Legilimancy on her. He didn't move to touch her; he just swam luxuriously in slow motion, bathing in the dark chocolate pools of her eyes.

"Right." He swallowed deeply and then said softly, "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, Miss Granger. Which do you prefer?"

Hermione had no idea what he was talking about, but she couldn't breathe with him standing so near. She was becoming lightheaded.

"What?" was all she managed to ask.

He held up the robe first. "You can wear my robe, pull it over your head, and hold me from behind or" ---he held up the black velvet strip--- "I can blindfold you and place you on my lap."

She felt her chest rise and fall quickly. Dear Merlin, she was going to hyperventilate! _Please don't faint! Please don't faint!_

"Or, " Harry leaned in closer now and whispered in her ear, "you can take it like the Gryffindor you are and keep your eyes open the entire time."

Sweet. Holy. Mother. of. Merlin!

_Say something Hermione! _ But all she could manage was to make some sort of puffing noise. "Wha... Wha...Wh..."

Who in the name of Mordred's Ghost was this new bold and brazen boy in front of her? And what had he done with her shy, kind, and sometimes annoying friend.

"Harry?" It was almost a plea.

"My guess is the blindfold," he said silkily, "because I have my knapsack to carry on my back with our lunches and a few tools of the trade."

She shook her head as if to clear out the cobwebs. Why was throat so dry?

"What?" she finally questioned.

He held out his Firebolt horizontally and bowed. "Your air carriage, madam."

He circled behind her and reached under her hair to the nape of her neck; after lightly stroking it, he began gathering her mass of curls by combing his fingers through it, and holding it in a loose ponytail.

"This could be hazardous." He lowered his mouth to her earlobe. "Let's keep it tied back so I don't get blinded, shall we?"

He then held out his free hand to her, silently requesting a hair tie. Something was wrong with her central nervous system. It had worked fine this morning. But for some reason, her brain was unable to communicate what she wanted to her limbs and the rest of her body. All she had to do was reach down into her pocket and grab the hair rubber. It wasn't that big of a task. But with her hair pulled up, she could feel his hot breath on the nape of her neck every time he exhaled. She leaned back on to his chest to keep upright. He was content to let her lean into him for stability.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she mutely handed him the hair tie and he wrestled the mass into a ponytail. "It's probably not the most fashionable," he said as he struggled to pull in the last of the curls, "but it's the best I can do. Honestly, I don't know how you keep your head up with all that hair, Hermione!"

She recognized that teasing. That was her friend Harry! He was back!

Quickly, before she lost the courage, she spun around to face him.

"What's with the robe and the blindfold?"

He shrugged matter-of-factly. "You're afraid of flying."

"So?" She was feeling more and more like herself now. Her mouth worked again!

"So, I'll just blindfold you, and you won't have to watch as we fly over the lake."

She mulled it over. True enough, she did hate flying. But which was worse? Flying in darkness, not having any idea where she was going, having to completely trust Harry to get them safely to the other side of the lake, or seeing every inch of space that came between them and the lake, watching as they hurled through the sky, seeing the space quickly evaporate before she plunged to her death. She swallowed.

She hiked her chin up and stuffed her hands in her jean pockets. "I'll take it like a Gryffindor!" She repeated his words.

Instead of feeling like the victor though, she wavered after seeing him give her a lopsided grin.

"Bravo." He hitched an eyebrow up. "I'd expect nothing less from you."

Something was indeed different about Harry since they had kissed. She wasn't sure what it was, but she felt that some of his softness was gone, and replaced by something more feral. _ Maybe that's what happens when you're able to battle dragons._

Harry tucked the blindfold and robe into his knapsack and placed the sack on his back. He lowered the broom between his legs and then cocked his head toward her, motioning her to him. As she warily approached, he held out his right arm, gripping the broom with his left.

"Come stand against this leg." He tapped his right thigh.

She did as he requested and he pulled her up against him as he raised the broom under her bum. She was side saddling the broom as they slowly lifted off the ground. She automatically placed one hand under his left arm, hugging his waist.

He pulled her flush up against him, leaning into her.

"I'll take it nice and slow Mione... I'll be gentle. I promise."

She ribbed him with her free elbow and he chuckled. As they ascended, he couldn't help but feel the blood race through his veins. He was born to fly. It took every inch of willpower not to spiral into the sky, leaning full-throttle forward into the wind, and then dive down recklessly toward the lake and pull up within moments before reaching its glassy surface. He couldn't help the feeling that urged him with the need for speed, but he squelched it with all the self-control he could muster. He had precious cargo onboard, and he wouldn't endanger her. As much Harry loved flying, Hermione loathed it. He knew she was afraid of heights, so he kept their flight patterns low, and close to the lake. He flew slowly, easily, so that he could actually see where he was going without goggles on.

She let out a mewling sound and buried her head into his chest, creeping her free arm up his chest and around his neck.

"I've got you Hermione. I won't let go."

0----0----0----0

Draco lithely jumped down from the tree branch on which he was perched. So Potter actually had the bollocks to do something about his long-time infatuation with the Mudblood. He must think quite a bit of himself to risk the wrath of an angry Bulgarian. Then again, after showing off in front of all of Hogwarts with the Hungarian Horntail, perhaps the famous Seeker from Durmstrang wasn't a threat in his eyes. If only he hadn't had to witness that revolting display of hormones by those two Gryffindorks!

When he had overheard the littlest of Weasleys talking to Granger in the hallway, he thought she was meeting Krum, not Potter. He was hoping to get on the same page with Krum, so he didn't botch things up tonight. Now he would just have to improvise.

As he marched back to the castle, he wondered how he could possibly let this little tidbit slip in front of the Bulgarian. Surely Krum would put a final end to the Boy Who Wouldn't Die!

And what about Granger? Granger was a tease. He was certain of that now. She may not have knowingly been aware of her attraction to Potty, but it was there! She nearly popped on the spot when he whispered in her ear. He was positively annoying! He deserved every minute of pain that the blasted Triwizard Tourney gave him!

The best thing that could happen to Hogwarts would be to separate the Brain from the Scar.

0----0----0----0

Harry circled the broom slowly over the shore. He loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to point down with his finger. She nodded, and he eased the Firebolt into a slow descent. He was glad the ride had taken longer than it would have if he had flown at his own speed because he was able to enjoy having Hermione pressed up against him. Although he was certain there would be finger imprints on his shoulder and waist, he relished the feeling of being in complete control of her. Something about having her cling to him made him feel more important than before.

"So are you ready to join the Quidditch team now?" he jested.

"Funny, Harry. How very glib of you!"

"Come on, Hermione, that wasn't all bad, was it?" He eased next to her.

Hermione wasn't sure when she had become so indecisive. Hadn't she made up her mind earlier this morning, that she was to set Harry straight and explain to him that he didn't have to pretend with her? But when he showed up, so cavalier, all the planning and logic flew right out of her head.

"Hermione, we need to head through those trees. I spoke with Firenze about a week ago, and he said we will need our wands at the ready in order to enter."

"He didn't tell you anything more helpful than that?"

"He's not supposed to give away the secrets of the forest. The other centaurs would exile him if they knew he even met with me."

The interior of the forest was much different from the lake shore. It was not only darker, but it was much more dense. The foliage crept up trees and spread across the ground. Vines hung low from dead limbs, and Hermione could have sworn she saw things moving under the shadows of fallen logs.

The temperature had also notably dropped by several degrees and Hermione absentmindedly ran her hands up and down her arms. Harry turned to her; noticing her chills, he stopped and withdrew the Gryffindor robe from his knapsack.

He swung it around her shoulders and began to fasten it from the top. She silently watched him as his eyes moved from the robe up to her mouth. He noticed how naturally full her lips were as he moved his eyes up to the bridge of her nose.

"I can't see your freckles."

What an odd thing for him to say, she thought. Harry was silently observing her facial features. Green eyes met her amber ones as he bunched the lapels of the robe into his hands and pulled her up against him. She knew she had to be the one to put this to rights. If she didn't stop it, they would bend the rules of friendship beyond the point of no return.

She put her hands on his chest; feeling his hold tighten, she tried to push away from him.

"Harry, we can't."

"Why can't we, Hermione?" He hadn't let go of the robe.

"Because I'm with Viktor. Because you're my best friend. Because you don't really want this."

"Don't presume that you know what I do and don't want." His eyes had turned a much darker shade of green---hunter green

She tugged on his wrists, until he released her and walked toward the direction Harry had previously indicated.

"It's better if we just forget that kiss, Harry."

He felt the calm slipping away. This wasn't how he had worked things out in his mind. This wasn't what he and Sirius had discussed. This wasn't how she was supposed to react.

He watched the back of her march ahead of him before picking up the broomstick and following her. He would just need to try another tactic. He had gone over several of them with his godfather. He needed to let her know how he felt about her and not just with words. She needed to _feel _what he wanted.

Just as they neared a clearing, he heard a dreadful gasp come from Hermione.

In a second he was in front of her, pushing her behind him.

There in front of him paced an adult full-sized sphinx. It wasn't as large as a dragon, but it was larger than a Hippogriff. It had the body of an oversized lion and the dark-bearded head of a man. Neither Hermione nor Harry had ever set eyes on such a magical beast before.

Harry had instinctually withdrawn his wand and extended an arm out in front of Hermione, as if to ward the creature away from her.

The sphinx merely paced predatorily in front of the pair. It was the first to speak. "You have no business on this end of the forest young wizard. You may not enter. You must leave now."

Hermione immediately took in the size of its giant paws, with claws that had extended out now as it paced. One swipe of a claw, and they'd both be Sphinx food.

"We can't leave," Harry answered. "We must enter the colony."

"I cannot allow that," growled the Sphinx. "Not unless each of you can answer a riddle."

"Hermione," Harry spoke to her over his shoulder, "take the Firebolt and leave now."

She shook her head frantically. "No, Harry. I'm not leaving you alone."

"Hermione!" Harry clenched his teeth together. "Take. the. Firebolt. Now."

"Both of you answer a riddle or leave together!" threatened the sphinx. With incredible speed it pounced forward, directly at them, making its point clear.

"The female first." He paused in front of Hermione, observing her obvious state of trepidation. "You are allowed to make a final statement, Witch. You must choose the method of your death: If the statement is true, you will be killed by my claws. If the statement is false then you will be killed by my teeth. Make your statement."

Hermione looked nervously at Harry. Her brain raced for a response but saw his wand still extended. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I will be killed by your teeth."

Harry shook his head in warning, but the sphinx merely nodded at his prey. "Clever witch. You may pass."

Harry was confused and looked at her questioningly. She didn't have to explain; the sphinx did so for her. "If this statement was true, she would have been clawed and thus not be killed by my teeth. But then her statement would be false, which implies that she should be killed by my teeth, making the statement true again. In other words: She cannot be killed at all and will be released."

The Sphinx continued its pacing, looking at Harry now.

"Silent Unseen, small cousin of death

Born this instant, closer than breath

Killer of thoughts, assassin of dreams

I am the end of all of your schemes

_What am I_?"

Harry looked quickly at Hermione. But before she could help him, the Sphinx roared at him. "You must answer on your own!"

After several panicked seconds, Harry knew what he must do.

Hermione screamed as Harry pushed her to the side. Tumbling on top of her, he rolled her quickly several feet away, barely missing a rake of the sphinx's immense claw.

Harry had tried to cast the _Immobulus_ spell on the sphinx, but it bounced past the creature and into an already immobile tree. Once again the half-lion beast pounced, this time angry, and with a mighty roar it attacked.

Harry shielded Hermione with his body. But he did not move swiflty enough as the claws slashed open his back as it swiped downward.

Harry let out an ear-piercing cry of pain and Hermione instinctively grabbed at her wand and pushed Harry off of her to the side as she pointed the wand directly at the beast. She yelled, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" just as the creature was about to rake its claw across them again.

The magical beast froze into a pose not unlike the embroidered lion crest on her Gryffindor robe. She was panting, not realizing that her eyes were now filled with tears. She had never imagined that the guardian of the faerie colony would ever be so brutal.

She threw herself down next to her best friend and hiccupped a sob away when she saw his back, an open wound freely spilling his blood down onto the forest floor.

"Harry, we must get you to Madame Pomfrey immediately!" She tried to ease him up into a sitting position. "Can you walk?"

Harry was near shock; no longer feeling the painful gashes in his back, he nodded to Hermione as he allowed her to help him up into a semi-standing position. "I can... walk." He gritted through his teeth. "But I can't fly."

She let loose a racked sob and tried to breathe in deeply to control her frustration.

"Harry, you must! You must get us back to the castle."

He shook his head and was bent over, trying not to stretch out to his full height, which would open the wound even more. He stumbled forward into the clearing and got as far as the petrified sphinx before he fell back onto his knees.

"Harry!" She was by his side trying to help him up.

"Mione... get me past this clearing. Please." He leaned on her shoulder for support. "Just get me to the Nirvae, and I'll be fine."

"Of course!" She rebuked herself for not thinking of it first.

She wiped her nose against her sleeve, she took his arm, draped it across her shoulder, and helped him back on his feet.

All they had to do was get across the clearing.

**A/N:** The riddle from the Sphinx came from the book, "The Iron Dragon's Daughter" by Michael Swanwick. :-)


	12. Nirvae

**Chapter 12: Nirvae**

_The Basilisk had petrified another victim... but it wasn't just any Muggleborn student at Hogwarts, it was you, Hermione. Your face was frozen in time, cold and smooth as the finest Roman marble. Your deep chocolate eyes were lost to me, not even giving __me a glimpse of my own reflection. Your hand was so tiny as I tried to hold it into one of my own, still wearing my Quidditch gloves. Yet you had even helped me while you were unconscious by giving me the evidence I needed to find the Chamber of Secrets __our second year. That's just how you are, always helping me, always protecting me._

_You made excellent work of that tampered bludger our second year as well. If it weren't for you, my head would have been smashed in. So quick with the wand, so many casts and spells stored away in that wonderfully brilliant brain of yours._

_That same wand set Snape's cloak on fire for me, also cast Reparo on my glasses twice, you'd think I would have learned how to do that myself by now._

_Remember when you jumped in front of me last year in the Shrieking Shack, shielding me from the escaped fugitive, Sirius Black, courageously defending me from certain impending death. It didn't matter that they were two grown men, Lupin and Black, against__ one clever, yet diminutive witch. You were going to protect me at all costs, Hermione, because that's just what you do._

_You drew away a full grown male werewolf last year, yet again saving my life._

_You aren't even afraid of the bigoted pureblood Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy. You stood your ground with him, coming to my defense. You should really be more careful, you know? There aren't many worse enemies one could have than a Malfoy._

_You can do anything. You can do everything. Except fly. I really need to teach you how to fly properly. It's not that hard. Considering ... it was you that gave me the power and strength to cast my first full fledged Patronus, driving away the swarm o__f dementors._

_There are only two places I feel completely happy, completely free. One is in the air, when I'm flying and the other is in your arms when you hold me close._

_I know your smell. I know the feel of your body. And now I know your taste._

_Don't leave me 'Mione. Never let go._

Harry's thoughts swam around in his head. He didn't want to open his eyes yet. Everything felt so bright on the other side of his eyelids. Everything was so deliciously warm. He could hear a bubbling of some sort. Was he floating? He felt as if his legs and arms were floating away from him. Then he heard her. Soft sobs. Her fingers were running through his hair that never stayed down, no matter how much conditioner he tried using. Hermione.

His throat felt dry and raw. He didn't dare chance opening his eyes until he could stop her crying. Why was she so sad? He wanted to feel her smile. If she would smile for him then he could bare anything.

"The Boy Who ... Couldn't... Solve a Riddle..." he groaned without opening his eyes, "And nearly got us killed because he's too daft to know any better."

She let release a loud sob and held his face in her hands and kissed his forehead.

"Mione..." Harry whispered as he reached up to try and hold her head, "Why are you upside down?"

She laughed loudly as she rubbed her face in his hair, unable to answer just yet, she let her arms circle around his neck.

Harry realized that he was wet ... not just wet, he was immersed in water.

"Are we in a bath tub?"

"It's ok, Harry," she said softly over and over again.

She squeezed him, kissing his hair, his forehead, his nose. That instantly caused his eyelids to flutter open, taking in her swollen eyes, red nose, and tear stricken face. She never looked more beautiful than at this moment.

"The Girl Who Saved the Boy That Wouldn't Learn." he whispered.

"We really need to stop meeting like this Harry." she teased, "It's bad for my self-esteem... I'm going to start thinking you're in this just for the thrill of it."

"What would I do without you?" he swallowed, trying to bring her into focus.

"I didn't save you, you prat." she teased, "It's this place... look."

He took in their surroundings and immediately was under the impression that they were in a dream. He wasn't actually floating after all, he was submerged in a hot spring with lime green colored water which bubbled and gurgled all around him. He looked up at Hermione, she sat behind him, on the ground above the hot spring. The ground was covered with a carpet of tender moss which flanked the entire spring. The sun was much stronger and warmer in this part of the forest. It almost felt tropical.

It was then that he noticed the lushness that surrounded them, beyond the spring. It was as if they had dropped into a botanical garden, covered with flowers, all types of flora, and on the other side of the spring was a gracious weeping willow. It was no Whomping Willow, he could tell straight away, because it sparkled with a thousand different colored lights. The lights were miniscule and moved in and out of the tree branches and leaves as if they were guppies swimming in water.

Just beyond the willow was a small clearing with purple stalks of cattails which swayed in the breeze. The stalks were taller than Harry and he wondered what lie beyond them.

When he glanced back up at Hermione he had to lean his head all the way back. That's when he noticed a gleam of white and black sleekness just beyond her. It hurt to turn his body around to get a better look, but he felt compelled to do so.

A pair of unicorn were grazing near another flowering type of tree which had small red fruits hanging from it. The male had the longer horn, and unlike the creature he saw his first year, this one was solid black, basking in the sun, nearly a third size larger than his blazing white mate at his side. The male moved to shield his mare, edging slowly in front of her, blocking Harry's further inspection.

A small understanding began to trickle over him.

"Nirvae?" he guessed. Hermione confirmed his question with a nod of her head.

"The colony," she responded. "No sooner had we gotten past the clearing than you passed out." She continued to run her fingers through his hair. "I thought I was going to lose you, Harry." Her eyes filled once again with tears and she quickly wiped them away, attempting to be strong for him.

Harry felt the pulling and slight burning on his back, as he sunk lower into the water. He ran a hand across his chest, tensing as the stretched muscles tightened. That is when he noticed he was shirtless. It was sheer panic that made him reach below his waist. He closed his eyes in relief that his jeans were still snugly on.

"Mione what happened to my shirt?"

She flushed as the blood raced to her cheeks, "I... umm... I had to ... I had to take it off. Your back was gashed open by the sphinx Harry! You were bleeding all over the place. I couldn't even manage to get you this far without using Leviosa!" The words all tumbled out as she fiddled with the shoestring on her trainers. Finally she braved a glance at him, "Harry, I didn't know what to do. I would not... " she hesitated, then just shook her head.

"It's OK, Hermione, calm down... it was just a question."

Hermione was now gazing at the Weeping Willow, or more specifically at the colorful sparkling lights that flitted in and out of the branches. She was still amazed at how they were able to communicate with her. She slowly smiled as she recalled the musical strings that seemed to play all around her as she stumbled into the colony, guiding a levitated and unconscious Harry Potter along with her.

No sooner had she entered, crying and frantic then she was surrounded by the lights, or what appeared to be lights. That's when she heard what sounded like very soft violin music, an orchestra of violins, only softer, sweeter. There were no words exchanged verbally, she could hear the minute voices in her head... "Bring him to the spring, girl."

They had instructed her to remove his shirt and jeans, but she could only bring herself to pull his shirt off. Thank goodness for Leviosa! Should would never have been able to manage had he been lying on the ground. When they told her to lower him into the spring, she quickly removed his trainers and with a flick and swish Harry was slowly guided into the bubbling healing waters of Nirvae.

"The wounds closed up almost immediately," she informed him. "They told me what to do, and the waters healed you."

"Who told you?" he asked her curiously.

"The faeries," she whispered, pointing the the glowing light forms in the tree.

She then looked down at Harry, completely relieved now, feeling an immense amount of gratitude. She lowered her hands back to his face and raised it up to face hers as she peered down on his inverted countenance. "They are the ones that saved you, Harry... not me."

Harry placed his hands lightly over hers, rubbing his palms against the back of her hands. He was overcome with the impression that pounded within him. This was meant to be. This was how things would always be between them. His Hermione would be there for him, and as long as she was there, he could face anything. He would survive anything.

He grazed his fingers up her arms and then reached up further until one hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, lowering her face closer to his. She was uncertain what his intentions were, but she did not feel threatened. He was ever so gentle in his prompting.

"There are many different kinds of being saved, 'Mione."

He had guided her so that her face was now centimeters from his... her eyes were peering at his chin, as his was hers. He closed his eyes and brought her lips to his. He kissed her softly... tenderly. Her pillowed lips pressed into his. Moving his hands to her cheeks he ran his thumbs across her high cheekbones, then brushed them across her earlobes. His kisses became lighter... two, three, four... she lost count as he continued to feather them against her lips. The blood rushed to her head, but she didn't think it was from being inverted over him, she knew it was from this wonderfully warm feeling that bathed her with tingles. She parted her lips when he lifted her away only to bring her mouth back to his... both of their eyes were closed and Hermione didn't know when she had reached her hands down into the water and onto his shoulders, making a exploration down onto his chest.

They could feel the lights before they saw them, encircling around them. The lyrical stringed chords filled their ears and minds as Harry parted Hermione's lips with his tongue and found entry into her mouth. She had never been french kissed and she hesitated without returning the exploration... then he broke her resistance with a deepening probe of his tongue. As the kiss grew stronger, more determined, their senses seemed to heighten along with it.

She didn't recognize her own voice as it climbed up her throat and released into his mouth. Harry's hands went from her face and then combed through her hair, holding her head, anchoring her to him.

He wasn't sure how he had managed to do it in one swift movement, but before either of them were able to realize what was happening, Harry leaned up out of the water and wrapped his arms under Hermione's, around her back, and deftly pulled into the water with a small splash. He chuckled as she gasped, her eyes wide with surprise.

"HARRY!" she exclaimed, "Have you lost your mind!"

"Completely," he grinned and pulled her closer to him, to sit on his lap.

"You're mad!" she contended, "Mental!"

"After effects from being almost killed by a sphinx," he lifted her chin up to face him, wrapping his arm steadfast around her waist, "...or it could have been the concussion from the Hungarian Horntail." He kissed her again, moving her head back with his other hand under the nape of her neck, "... or it could be just the effect you have on me."

"It's the faerie dust," she gave him a pouty smile, "You've inhaled too much."

"Nope," he nibbled along her jaw line and mumbled, "Definitely you."

"Harry what are we doing? I'm soaked straight through!"

He stopped his journey across her chin and looked at her with dark green eyes. "I'm kissing, you're talking. Something's not quite right here."

She could hear her heart beating in her eardrums. What had this place done to them? She felt euphoric, filled with happiness, not wanting to leave. The water bubbled around them and she brushed her fingers lightly across Harry's collarbone. Her fingertips made soft swirls down his chest and she closed her eyes in wonder. Nothing felt like wet skin. There was nothing in her realm of experience that she could compare it to.

When her eyes closed, something burned low and deep within Harry. He could not stop himself from taking her mouth again. Harry could have, and would have kissed her all day and into the evening if Hermione would have allowed it. But finally her dormant conscience awoke, the guilt crept in, and she knew this wasn't what they had intended.

"Harry... I'm sorry." She pulled herself free from his embrace to increase the distance between them. She moved toward the center of the spring shaking her head, as if trying to deny what had just happened.

"Don't Hermione... don't..."

"I'm with Viktor," she said incredulously, as if trying to convince herself more than Harry. "I can't do this to him. I don't have the right to do this."

Harry's eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. "He doesn't own you Hermione!"

"No, but how can I be with him one minute, and then in your arms the next? Can't you see how wrong this is!"

Hermione felt the waves of regret cool the warmth of her desire for Harry. "I'll not hurt you or him, Harry, I'll not do it." She waded to the far side of the spring and eased back out of the spring, wringing the water from her hair and shirt as she sat on the edge.

Something long repressed made Harry blurt out, "I need you Hermione!"

She looked at her dearest friend, the boy that she loved, the young man that gave her discovery to a myriad of adventures. "You have me Harry... I'll be your friend forever. But I can't do it this way... not without clearing things up with Viktor first."

"Clear things up? You'll break things off with him? You'll tell him you can't go to the Yule Ball." Harry had put too much hope into his questions turning them into statements, into wishes.

"No... I can't do that," she looked away, not wanting to face him now. "But I will talk to him about this. About us."

Harry felt her slipping away. He wanted desperately to hold on to her... but he wasn't sure how. "You don't love him."

"No, I don't."

"Then why? Why stay with him?"

_Because it's the right thing to do. Because he asked. Because no one else wanted me until he did. _

He knew she wouldn't answer when he watched her stand and walk over to his knapsack and robe. She reached for her wand and dried her clothes with a whispered spell.

"Let's have something to eat before we bottle up the spring water, Harry. We'll use the tea thermos to carry it back for our potion."

888888

Draco was pacing, which was quite difficult to do in the confines of a small dark broom closet. Where the blazes were those two? They had missed dinner and if they took any longer, it would only be an hour until curfew. He pushed the overlong sleeves up his arms, only to watch them fall back down against his fingers. And where the devil is Blaise! He bent down to roll up the hems of the overly large trousers, and blew out an exasperated breath. This had better go right, or he'd smash something... preferably his fist into the bane of his existence, Harry "Pain -in-his-arse" Potter.

The door to the closet flew open and the tall Italian quickly wedged himself in, closing it behind him. "_Lumos!"_

"Well?" Draco nearly bit his head off, "Any sign of them?"

"Not yet... it's beyond dark out there, very little moon tonight, mate. Are you sure they'll come this way?"

Draco raked his hands through his hair in frustration. "Of course I'm sure!"

As if to chase away any lingering doubt he expounded, "It's the only place that makes sense for Potty. There is no moonlight, as you so poignantly pointed out. The front entrance is locked for the evening, and this turret is closest to the Gryffindor Tower. There are torches surrounding the turret's patio. He _must_ land here."

Draco knew how to strategize. No one could top his game of connivery or cunning. He had this completely planned out, almost to the Nth degree. Except for their tardy return back to the castle. He hadn't planned on this... and now it jeopardized his entire plan!

"What the hell could be taking them so long!" he demanded from Blaise. His friend knew this was a rhetorical question and didn't want to chance tipping the already-on-edge Draco overboard.

Blaise thought to distract his irked friend, "You have the bottle, yeah?"

Draco nodded and pulled it out of a deep trouser pocket. He raised it to show his friend, as if to prove a point, "Polish leaded crystal... especially for the occasion." The bottle gleamed with a golden transparent liquid inside.

"How do you know she'll use it?"

"Because I plan on making it too tempting not to," Draco smirked.

"What if Mel doesn't keep Krum downstairs? You've got the other polyjuice as well?"

"You're worse than a skittish virgin on her wedding night!"

Blaise knew that part of his nervousness came from the fact that he didn't want to be killed by an angry, vengeful son of Durmstrang.

"I'll just go have another look... " he turned to his friend before leaving, "Why don't you practice your Bulgarian accent or something?"

Draco tossed a hand gesture to his mate that needed no translation.

It was about ten minutes later that he heard footsteps running toward the closet. The door swung open a second time and Blaise looked excited. "I'm pretty sure it's them!" He entered the small compartment and lit his wand again by casting Lumos, "I see two small lights in the distance, and they're headed this way!"

"Right!" Draco didn't need any further prompting, he removed a flask from his bag of spare clothes and swiftly drank it completely down. "Gods, that stuff is awful!"

It only took a matter of seconds before he felt the transformation occur. Bones extended, skin stretched, facial hair prickly grew, arms and legs both lengthened. The Durmstrang jersey and dark trousers that he was wearing were completely filled out within 60 seconds, finishing the metamorphosis.

"Won't ever get use to watching that!" Blaise said in astonishment. "I swear, if I didn't know it was you, mate, I'd be running right about now!"

Draco flexed both arms, mockingly imitating a muscleman pose. He sneered as he rubbed his borrowed palms down his pectoral muscles on his chest.

This was going to well worth the wait. Granger had no idea what was in store! Then he took a few steps before pausing in his tracks. _Bloody Hell!_

"The man's a bloody horse, mate!" To confirm his suspicion, he reached down his hand to his crotch. "And he carries to the left."

A/N: For those that want desperately to know about the riddles from the last chapter, please check out my LJ URL. :-)

Two chapter updates for you! Because you're awesome and have kept me plugging through this... Buckle your seatbelts mates, you're in for a bumpy ride!


	13. Seduced

**A/N:** For all those earnestly patient Draco fans that have waited through 12 chapters of Harry and Hermione... this one's for you!

**Chapter 13: Seduced**

Harry lowered the Firebolt slowly down onto the turret's open patio. Hermione had been sitting in front of him again, but this time she wore his Gryffindor robe since the evening air had chilled considerably. He had one arm around her waist, over the robe. Once they touched ground he pulled the broom out from under them and turned Hermione to face him.

"Don't regret anything, Hermione," he said softly as he pulled his robe tight around her, "I know I don't."

They had not noticed the dark figure in the shadows of the door which led back into the castle. He was leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed as well. He narrowed his eyes immediately feeling very much the alpha male. Had he heard correctly? What exactly had Potter done with Granger? And more importantly, why was he clutching her still!

"Nice outing?" he leered at Hermione as she jumped and swung around to face him.

"Viktor!"

Potter moved to stand slightly in front of Hermione, as if to block access to her.

Interesting development, Potter.

Hermione came to her senses and tugged gently on Harry's arm. "Go see Madame Pomfrey... just to make sure everything's ok."

Harry looked down at her and then at the Bulgarian. Draco lifted himself up from the door frame, unfolding his arms; it appeared as if Harry wasn't going anywhere.

Potty's deaf as well as dumb.

"You are injured, Potter?" he walked casually toward the two.

"We had a run-in with a fully grown male sphinx," Hermione explained, "That's why we're so late. Isn't it Harry?" She said the last bit as a hint for him to confirm her explanation.

Harry understood what Hermione wanted, but he didn't want to make it easy for her. Not after what they had just shared together in the forest. His eyes took on a sparkle of mischief as he grinned knowingly at her.

"...Or maybe we shouldn't have spent so much time... eating."

Hermione's face blushed as she glared at him. She could box his ears! He was being cheeky on purpose!

"I'm sure it was a combination of the sphinx and trying to fly in the pitch dark... Harry," she gritted her teeth together, "DO go see Madame Pomfrey. I'll be along shortly."

Draco wanted to wipe that smirk right off of Potter's face, but he knew this wasn't how the Bulgarian would handle things. He attempted to remain calm, but he felt as though he was standing on the balls of his feet, ready to surge on top of the annoying Scarhead. He attributed these feelings of anger to be drawn from wearing the Bulgarian's skin. Surely he could really care less what had transpired between the two.

Harry eyed the other champion before turning back to Hermione. He leaned into her and whispered, "You forgot to dry your hair." To emphasize his point he tugged on her pony tail. He was rewarded with another icy glare from Hermione and he chuckled to himself as he walked toward the door.

"You'll need to shampoo tonight, Hermione," he called over his shoulder, "... strawberry innit?" Hermione was ready to stalk past Viktor and charge after Harry but Draco reached down for her wrist as she attempted to get by him.

He noticed the still damp tendrils of her ponytail. Draco reached up and took a strand of dark hair between his fingers, for some reason wanting to to feel it, confirming its wetness. Wanting to see what Hermione's reaction would be, he bent down and took a strand of her hair into his mouth and sucked it. Odd tasting... like sulfur.

"Go for a swim?" he asked, then remembering who he was supposed to be, he added, "Hermyninny."

He saw the fierce blush spread over her cheeks, even in the dark. He felt a growl rumble in his chest but pushed it back down. So Potthead must have made his move. He noticed a slight tremble in her hand as she reached to pull the strand from his mouth. He hadn't even touched her yet and she was trembling. He felt confident that the Bulgarian probably would not have gotten that reaction.

"You should be careful ..." he lowered his voice and held her eyes captive with his, "... the Dark Forest is dangerous. Many evils." She shivered and tried tossing her head back, but it was a very weak gesture.

Her reaction made him feel strong... potent. They hadn't even done anything together yet. What would happen when they did? Draco's skin broke out in tingles. He vowed to find out even if it meant that he'd lower his standards, just this once... if he was going to do this, he would do it right.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was keeping track of time, how many minutes had ticked by already, they only had around forty minutes left, and he didn't want to waste any of it.

Hermione took a step back, her hair slipping from between Draco's loose grasp. "Viktor," she began, calling him the name which wasn't his own, "I'm well able to take care of myself. It's just then when I'm around Harry, things get... complicated."

Draco caught a handful of hair again, wanting badly to use the grip to bring her closer. But he only cupped the dark strands, letting them pool in his palm like melted chocolate. Again the sparks ignited at the mention of the Golden Boy's name. He wanted, no he needed to clear her mind of Potter.

"You're too important to me for me not to worry," Draco declared, rubbing his fingers together over the dampness. He knew the Bulgarian was charmed by her, so it wasn't hard for him to come up with the right sentiment.

He took in her milky skin, her dark eyes, and asked without realizing it, "Do you take after your father or your mother?"

She smiled feeling much more at ease now the conversation was off of the focus of the spring incident and she answered. "My mother is fair, my father has dark brown hair."

He nodded in understanding, "That explains your complexion," his eyes drifting over her pale skin again.

"I'm ordinary," she admitted, "but the brains make up for it." She shrugged her shoulders in acceptance. She had said this so matter-of-factly that he had to smile.

Draco shook his head, amazed at the her naiveté. He knew she had grown up sheltered from the magic world, being raised by Muggles, but he never thought her to be cloistered in ignorance of her own looks. It was so odd that she didn't know... Miss Know-It-All, didn't know that she was pretty.

Time was slipping by him, and all he could think about was how she looked. He had to regain control of this situation. Stick to the plan!

He reached down into his pocket and withdrew the small crystal bottle and extended it to her. "For you, Hermyninny."

Hermione reached down to his palm, and he saw that her fingers were still trembling. Was she afraid of him? Nervous? Or was she indeed just this innocent?

"Viktor," she whispered looking up to face him, "You've already given me the ribbons. This is too much."

He pressed the vial into her hands and then cupped her face. He had to convince her to take this. He wouldn't allow her to reject it.

"Please," he asked, the word feeling foreign to his lips, "An early birthday present."

"The bottle is so pretty! What is it?"

He smiled at her as he raised his hand to touch the tender spot behind her ear.

"Crystal from Poland. It's perfume, especially made for you. You must wear it ... for me."

He leaned in closer, replacing his lips where his hand just had touched. He kissed her behind her ear and she leaned her head back further, bringing a knowing smile to his lips. He could taste the saltiness on her skin that wasn't hers. He confirmed that she indeed had been submersed in some sort of water.

She was overcome with a warmth yet felt like she had goose bumps at the same time. It was a wild, fluttery feeling in her stomach. It caused a strange surge of blood to her lower body that left her feeling faint and exhilarated at the same time.

This wasn't love. She understood that love was an emotion she could not yet feel at her young age. But what she was feeling was something almost as potent as when she kissed Harry. This must be lust.

Lust... it made her hand shake as she pushed against Viktor's chest. It made her breath short as he slid his tongue down her neck. She was scared. She was excited. It was all she could do not to jump out of her skin when he growled into the crook of her neck.

"You must wear the perfume here... " he murmured behind her ear. Hermione bit her lip as Draco's lips hummed against the outer shell of her ear. For whatever reason, the Gods deemed it necessary for her to be tortured twice in one day. That's what this felt like, a bittersweet torture, that brought her to a brink, an edge, and held her dangling over, never letting her discover what was just beyond these sensational feelings.

She was supposed to be talking to Viktor about Harry. She was supposed to explain that she wasn't sure how she felt about her best friend now. She should tell Viktor about the kisses they shared.

But Viktor was much more intense tonight. She couldn't quite grasp what it was about him, but he was more provocative. He didn't ask permission, he pressed forward as if it were his right. Not since the time in the library had he kissed her neck and pressed this close.

Draco raised her wrists to his lips and lightly kissed the inside of each one, "... and place a few drops here," he pushed aside the overly large Gryffindor robe and continued up to the fold of her arm, each crease of her elbow he marked with another feathery kiss, "... and here."

He paused, wondering how far he could push his luck before she would stop him. He could tell she was still green, still inexperienced. It was the sight of the male sized robe that made his decision for him. She smelled of Potter when she wore his robe, and Draco was offended by it.

He unbottoned the clasp that held the robe around her neck and slipped it from her shoulders, letting it fall to ground. Her eyes widened in surprise and she started to bend over to pick it up. He caught her by the shoulders and shook his head at her, his lips turned up in a fox grin.

He ran his single index finger over her collarbone and then lightly drew a path downward, stopping just above the cleavage of her small breasts. She tried not to moan when his lips had reclaimed her neck, drifting from her ear down lower. Scorching heat seared her where the single finger stopped, and then began drawing delicate circles over her t-shirt.

"... and here," his own voice caught in his throat. Gods, how he wanted to cup her small softness and bring it to his mouth. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the knowledge that this was Viktor Krum and not Draco Malfoy touching her.

The heated tip of Draco's tongue ran a sinuous trail up and down the side of her neck. When it slid down the junction between her neck and shoulder, Hermione's fingers and toes curled. She had to force the digits flat upon Viktor's chest, pressing the perfume bottle into him. She could feel herself shaking as Draco continued to lick her. Lick her.

Merlin's beard, she'd never imagined she would be doing this tonight! It felt so good, that sleek wetness tickling her and yet not. The sheer wetness of his tongue and it's odd firm strength against Hermione's neck were making the blood drain from her head and fall to her nether parts.

Draco's breath cooled the moisture on Hermione's skin. He had watched her do this before, with Krum, and now she was allowing him to do this again. He remembered watching them in the library. I suppose this is nothing new to you, Granger. Sharp teeth sunk into the flesh of Hermione's shoulder, right where it met her neck. Hermione gasped, then bit her lip to cover up the sound.

Draco willed her to tell the difference this time. Recognize me!

Her vision was going blurry. She tried to concentrate on talking, saying something, anything. She pressed almost desperately against Viktor's chest. She forced herself to move.

"I need to go..." she said in a husked whisper.

Oh, but that voice threatened to undo Draco. She panted, feeling herself shiver despite the flush of heat that was blazing throughout her body.

Draco wanted more time. He had twenty more minutes at the most. He wasn't ready for her to leave him yet.

He needed more.

He continued to whisper as he gently urged Hermione closer to him, "Behind your knees," -- his grin showed whitely in the dim lighting -- "you mustn't forget there." Hermione stared up at him helplessly, knowing her face was aflame and that she was panting too loudly to disguise it. Her body was sensitive with newfound need and she ached... oh, how she ached.

Draco pulled her closer and the space between them vanished. He rubbed Krum's roughly stubbled cheek against Hermione's, letting his breath fan her ear. Hermione tried yet again to press her hands against Viktor's chest. Muscles as firm as stone shifted beneath her palms. The touch made her fingers buzz with the need to feel more. But she was afraid. Afraid of what she wanted, afraid of asking for it. Afraid of being wanton and feared what she was becoming with him.

Before she could escape, Draco leaned down and kissed her. Kissed.

She whimpered, not caring that it revealed her inexperience, or her need and desperation. This was magical. Viktor was kissing her so tenderly... then it happened, she saw Harry behind her closed eyelids, remembering how soft his kisses were in the spring.

She forced herself to break free from Viktor's hold. Hermione had never dreamed she could feel this way about two boys at the same time! Both kisses were so intense yet so gentle that it left her in a quivering puddle.

"Viktor... "she panted, "I need to talk to you... I can't do this. I can't keep doing this."

Draco was inflamed. Not Viktor! Notice me! Feel me!

He refused to let her leave without getting more of her taste. He pulled her against him, this time it was not as gentle or soft. His lips coaxed hers open. She was resistant, stubborn, but he was persistent, and finally she opened to him, allowing a determined tongue to slip forward and enter her mouth in an intimate joining.

Never before in his life, and never again would it be like this. Draco somehow knew it deep down in his soul.

She moaned at the tender invasion, losing the strength to stand. Draco caught her, pressing her against him. Her softness made him harden with arousal. Nothing could drown out the beat stampeding wildly in Hermione's chest. Her senses were spinning. She could hardly breathe. It was almost frightening how quickly and completely she was losing control of her body and yet it was exciting... and scary.

Draco's tongue stroked over her own. It pumped across her own wetness in a rhythm that made Hermione tighten her legs together, squeezing a raging, pulsing need. Timidly, Hermione let her tongue entangle with his and when she did, she moaned into his mouth. Draco nearly exploded at the sound.

Hermione's passion. For him. Because of him. No, not him. Krum!

Draco's own moan eclipsed hers as she reached her arms behind him and clutched helplessly at his back. She was so weak, he feared she might collapse.

Draco's mouth tore away from hers to whisper, "Breathe, love. Breathe. I've got you." The hand around Hermione's lower back stroked her comfortingly. Her lips were swollen from his kisses.

The Slytherin in him wanted to make her lose control with need. He watched Hermione's pupils dilate. He couldn't remember ever feeling sexier as he murmured, "I can make you forget your own name and only remember mine." His name, not Krum, not Potter!

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. Just his words had made her excited.

"I ... can't," she tried desperately to hold on to her resolve, "It's... too much."

It was just as well. Draco had felt Krum engorge with arousal. He found himself pressing against her, pushing his erection against her lower belly. If he continued now, he would impale her. He wanted to grind himself against her... attack every inch of her.

He had gone too far. He knew it. Somewhere in his mind he had lost track of his plan, and instead of the seducer, he had become the seduced.

**A/N**: Hope it was worth the wait! Next Chapter should be pretty promising!


	14. Deceit

**Disclaimer: **She lets us play with them, but they are hers to keep.

**A/N: **As my friend pointed out, is it sheer coincidence that Draco finally got lucky with Chapter #**13...** heh!

**Chapter 14: Deceit**

He wasn't sure how he ended up in this predicament. He remembered that all he had intended on doing was to speak with Hermione, but he had no idea he would end up with warm hands pushing against his Durmstrang jersey, pressed against his chest. "Please, Viktor," she pleaded. He was out of time! He needed to get as far away from her as possible, and quickly! When her anxious fingers crept up to his chest and brushed across his nipples, he reached down and held her by the wrists, shaking his head at her warningly. "I said no, Melanie. And in my country, no means no."

The pert blonde nearly stomped her foot down in frustration. How dare this Bulgarian think he was too good for her! So what if he was a pureblood! So what if he was world famous and rich! He was still just a young man. His broad shoulders and strong chest promised her more than adequate stamina and endurance. This man was an extremely fit athlete who should have raging hormones just like any other 18 year old!

The Slytherin refused to take no for an answer. He must be attempting to be noble in case someone came their way down the secluded, dark hallway. She knew they were safe, however, because she had posted a watch on either end of the hall. She was determined and had promised Draco that she would keep the Seeker busy for an hour. She deftly worked her fingers down her blouse, unbuttoning the top three buttons in seconds flat, exposing her ample cleavage to her prey. She _had_ to convince him to stay.

Melanie glanced coyly down at her exposed breasts, pushing back her shoulders in order to place emphasis on exactly how rotund and busty she was. She purred, "Don't be so unfriendly, Viktor." He swallowed and tried to right himself from the wall. He was supposed to have met Hermione tonight, and this femme fatale was deterring him.

Pouncing on his hesitancy, she vaulted forward and caught his neck in one hand and pulled her open mouth to his. At the same moment she pressed her breasts flush against his chest and rubbed purposefully up and down, dragging them across his hardened chest. Before he could catch her shoulders, she reached down her free hand and cupped his crotch.

He was past the point of being a gentleman now. He roughly grasped her by the shoulders and forced her away. "You go too far!" he boomed. When she appeared as if she would make another attempt, his eyes flashed in anger and he darkly shook his head at her. "Do not make me use magic on you, woman."

He called her woman for that's exactly what she was, every year as old as he in age, but years beyond in sexual prowess, deceit and cunning. She had cornered him unsuspectingly in the hallway several minutes before, with a request for help. She had pretended that she wasn't well. She said she needed him to hold on to her to keep her from fainting. Then within minutes she had begun touching him, clinging to him, rubbing against him. He knew it was a ploy, because she wasn't the first female to attempt such blatant moves of seduction. He was sure she would not be the last.

Ever since he had joined the professional Bulgarian Quidditch team, he had received advances from male and female alike. Most were witches much older than him. Melanie was pretty and well endowed, but he nearly gagged at her brazen wantonness. He was not attracted to these types of women. He had one special little witch who held his heart. Hermione Granger would be the only witch he would be kissing tonight.

Melanie raised her chin up and looked up at him, quite put out by his refusal, "What makes you so special that you won't snog me? Am I too much woman for you?" When he didn't answer straight away she narrowed her eyes at him and her injured pride egged her on. "Perhaps you don't like girls at all, maybe you like to play hide the broomstick with your boys from Durmstrang."

He pushed off from the wall, edging around her without bothering to respond to her. She wasn't worth the time it took for conversation.

"I'm talking to you, Krum! Don't you walk away from me! I'm not finished here!"

Viktor continued his path forward, not looking back. He spoke firm but low when he answered, "But I am." He did not break a step, headed down the hall to the moving staircase that would lead him to Gryffindor Tower.

"She's not alone, Krum!" Melanie called out savagely. "Granger's off being snogged by another! All the while you stay behind here, pining for her. "

He didn't turn, but she did cause him to pause in his tracks. The saying was a cliché because it was true: Hell hath no fury--- and Melanie Payne was indeed the scorned woman. She could not have been more common then at that moment. She chose to attack the one girl in Hogwarts that was the essence of everything he could ever ask for in a girlfriend. Of course she wasn't technically his girlfriend, not officially. But he had intended on asking her to be more than just a date to the Yule Ball on her birthday.

However, just because she wasn't his girlfriend yet did not mean he had to abide by a common slag bad-mouthing the one girl that he held precious. Hermione was beyond reproach. Melanie didn't even deserve to say her name.

Viktor snapped into a military style about-face and stalked back to Melanie. She took a few steps back when she saw his fierce glower with dark, furrowed brow. "Witch, you will not disgrace her name again." He halted a few feet from her, raised his index finger at her, and then slowly wagged it back and forth. "We at Durmstrang have a much different outlook on the Dark Arts than you do here at Hogwarts," he said in a tightened yet not too subtle threat. "Do not force me to give you a sample lesson."

She hated being threatened by the Bulgarian, but she knew better than to say anything more. Draco would have to fend for himself, she was done. Let the bushy haired Gryffindor pull the stick out of his arse, Melanie no longer enjoyed playing Viktor Krum.

88888888

Draco had felt possessed, therefore dangerous. A warning went off in his head. _I need to let her walk away._ The warning grew louder, but he ignored it. "Give me one last kiss," he pleaded. His passion had grown into full blown lust and he was teetering on the edge of obsession. He was hungry for her. The small brunette merely shook her head in disapproval and turned to leave.

_Let her go._

As if following a command led by the pounding in his heart he reached out to her in a swift, smooth movement and pulled her back to him. To his utter thrill her widened doe eyes made her even more enticing.

Draco was already swollen with need, but he never realized how something as vulnerable as she could look so powerfully enticing. It made him yearn to take advantage. Hermione sucked in her breath as the Slytherin in the Durmstrang's skin pulled her closer.

"You're trembling," he whispered.

She placed a hand on his forearm as if to steady herself, and prevent him from tightening his embrace.

"Are you cold?"

She shook her head, but he reached down to pick up the forgotten Gryffindor robe and handed it to her. She could feel Viktor's predatory stare in the darkness, but refused to look up to face him. If she did, she would not be able to remain strong.

Draco could wait no longer. He crushed her mouth with his, not meaning to be so forceful, but feeling a surge of need that he could no longer control. She had never been kissed like this. A kiss that was like an invasion, a seizure. Viktor was no longer tempting her. He was taking her. Whether she wanted it or not.

When a hand came from around her back to slowly rub up her side, she felt him press his hardness against her, rhythmically. It was then that Hermione was beginning to think she did, indeed, want this. Which was impossible, her mind protested.

Another betraying moan slid past her lips. Draco abruptly broke off their kiss. He needed to hear her reaction to him. He began licking and kissing the exposed column of her throat again. He loved the sounds she made for him. Because of him.

"Let me hear that again," Draco whispered against her skin.

Hermione shook her head, trying to force reason back into her brain. She needed to be the one to stop him. She wasn't ready to explore this sensational, intense desire he was causing. She nearly disintegrated when he ran slipped his fingers under her t-shirt and tenderly ran them over her ribs and belly.

She arched beneath Draco's lips and moaned.

"That's better," he murmured, and moved his lips back up to kiss her again.

Draco's mind was swerving out of control with passion. He had only intended to meet her, give her the potion, and if need be, convince her to use it. He never expected to be consumed with desire for her. It was merely a curiosity he had told himself. He wanted to squelch the annoying attraction he had felt toward her and so he decided to experiment with just a kiss. But one thing had led to fifty others and now he knew he was feeling near violent with the frustration of being in Viktor Krum's body, while drinking in these delicious and almost unbearable kisses. She had poisoned him after one kiss.

He could not pull himself away, even knowing that his time was nearly spent. If he continued to snog her he would soon be literal putty in her hands. He would transform back to his own body and she would hate him for it.

Yet knowing full well the danger that lay ahead, he forged forward, needing her close to him. Hating himself for doing this at the same time unable to stop, he would not let her go.

All of the blood, all of the nerves in Hermione's body collected in her mouth, her lower belly and rushed down to her nether parts. She didn't think it could get any better. It was impossible. But Viktor proved her wrong. The remaining hand slid from around her back. Hermione was suddenly as sharply aware of the placement of that hand as she would have been a wand at her throat. As Viktor continued to plunder her mouth, the Bulgarian's hand slid down under her t-shirt to the front of her belly and trickled lightly upward, just below her small breasts. Hermione's eyes opened, her breath stuttered. She suddenly knew another way in which this could be better. But would Viktor dare?

He would.

Hermione cried against the Seeker's lips when his hot palms cupped her both breasts and softly caressed her.

"Oh, Viktor," Hermione panted. "I've never -- this is ..." She couldn't finish the thought. There were no words to describe what she felt.

"I know... gods do I know." Draco made a sound that to Hermione's muddled senses sounded like quiet laughter. "Who would've believed it'd be like this, eh?" So low Hermione almost missed it, the Slytherin breathed, "Who could've guessed?"

Skilled fingers pinched her nipples, making Hermione push forward mindlessly, moaning. _Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods._ She clenched her eyes shut, no longer able to kiss Viktor back as passion flooded her system. Draco massaged her through the lace of her bra, making himself grow hotter, harder, until Hermione was only standing because he held her up.

"That's it, Hermione," he coaxed. "Let go for me..."

Her eyes snapped open. Hermione had completely lost herself. She had forgotten all thought of space or time. She couldn't even remember what day it was. All she knew is that for some very odd reason, a flashback of Draco Malfoy had just splashed over her like a pitcher of ice cold water.

Suddenly the rosy, blushed cheeks drained of their color and she stumbled backwards, trying to regain her own equilibrium. She shook her head in disbelief.

"What did you just call me? What did you just say?"

Draco's mind was clouded with desire. "What?"

"You just said 'Hermione'... I heard you."

_Bloody. Buggering. Hell._

Had he called her Hermione? He couldn't even recall. All he remembered was the warmth of her skin, the jasmine smell that exuded from her neck, and the strawberry tasting mouth of hers. What was she talking about?

"Hermyninny," he corrected. "I said Hermyninny."

She was confused. Had she misheard him? She couldn't even remember where she was, so there was a very good chance that she had imagined the perfect pronunciation of her name. _Let go for me. _She had heard that before.

Her breath was still short as she tried to fill her lungs, her chest rising and falling. Why in the name of Merlin was she thinking of Draco Malfoy! Was this some sort of punishment for her not stopping Viktor sooner? How could she be thinking of the annoying Slytherin at a time like this!

"Viktor, it's late," she struggled to regain control, finally realizing how spent she was. "I'm exhausted. I shouldn't be here. We shouldn't be..."

Draco knew she would blame herself for this, because that's just the type of girl Granger was. She'd beat herself up over it, and then try and apologize to the Bulgarian, who of course would have no bloody idea what she was talking about. He had to fix this quickly!

He reached for the robe and placed it around her shoulders, refastening the clasp.

"You know how much I care for you, yes?"

She nodded and smiled weakly at him.

"Then please let us remember tonight without any remorse." She looked as if she was going to interrupt him so he put up his hand to still her. "I am the one completely responsible for this, Hermyninny. I am older and more experienced."

He stuffed his hands into the Bulgarian's trousers, trying to subtly push down the not so discreet raging hard-on that tented below. "I apologize for not being more of a gentleman... but I do not apologize for being attracted to you. Let's not make this dirty by trying to explain it away. Let's just ..." he paused. He grappled with words, which was unusual for him. It was the knowledge that he had just copped a feel from the unsuspecting girl in front of him that silenced him.

She looked down at the ground and slipped the perfume bottle into the robe pocket.

"Good night Viktor," she whispered and walked quickly toward the door. This time Draco did not stop her. His time had expired as it was, and he could barely walk from the discomfort of the Bulgarian's oversized erection.

He hunched over while he ambled toward the broom closet, feeling as though he were walking on three legs instead of two.

Blaise nearly jumped out of his skin when Viktor Krum pulled the closet door open.

"Draco?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course it's me, you prat. Why would Krum come looking in the closet?"

In his utter frustration he grabbed his jersey from the bottom hem and pulled it up and over his head. Hermione Granger had completely unraveled him. He nearly blew the entire plan by calling her by her given name! His head swam as he could still feel her lips on his... his groin still raging proof that he found her to be sexually appealing.

He tugged open his trousers as he asked Blaise to pass him his Slytherin uniform.

He should have remembered to remove the Eastern European boots before attempting to remove his trousers. It was at that moment that his body decided to transform. He shook with spasms that the expired polyjuice potion caused. He stumbled as the trousers bunched down on top of the boots, and between the metamorphosis and the dropped trousers, he lost his balance.

They fell with a loud clatter, Draco falling and knocking over Blaise, who hit his head on one of the utility shelves in the small, dark closet.

"Damn you Draco, that hurt! GET OFF!"

Draco was already upset from what was commonly referred to amongst the lads as "blue bollocks," thanks to Hermione Granger! He cursed loudly and struggled to get up.

Neither one of them had heard the footsteps just beyond the closet that came to a halt once they had made such a ruckus knocking things down off the shelves. When the door swung open, they could not have been more mortified.

Draco lay over Blaise, with his trousers down around his ankles, shirtless, with the evidence of his preexisting erection. Blaise lay under Draco, head leaning against the wall, eyes dazed with pain.

There above them at the door stood the shocked Bulgarian. His eyebrows were arched, and he nodded with embarrassed understanding. So his suspicions were true.

He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say, he barely managed to utter, "Carry on," before closing the door tightly. He walked away as quickly as possible, as two loud screams could be heard from behind the closet door.


	15. Potion

**Chapter 15: Potion**

"Lips of an angel, my arse," mumbled Draco as he headed toward the Great Hall. _More like a demon! _He could not seem to shake the memories from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. And oh, how he had tried. He even resorted to yelling out curses in frustration, while he showered this morning, but he could still almost feel the warmth of her skin on his fingertips. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see her face, blushed crimson, her own eyes hooded in response to his kisses. He lowered his head under the steamy water, wishing it would wash away the thoughts of how her neck would crane upwards when he lavished it with attention. And gods, how could he ever forget her moan, the passion that lay underneath, begging to be released. This could not be happening! He refused to accept that he was being haunted by the annoying, too smart for her own good, muddled blooded witch!

It was bad enough he had a difficult time falling asleep last night. No matter how hard he tried, it took him several hours to get her image out from behind his closed eyelids! It infuriated him, and he refused to admit to himself that she controlled his physical reactions now.

He would not allow himself to be appeased by Melanie or even by self-gratification, because if he did so, it would be an admission that he was no longer in control, that he was commanded by his lust and not his brain. So he denied himself any source of pleasure and buried his head in his pillow while finally settling face down, laying on his stomach.

Unfortunately for Draco his subconscious was much more randy than even he could control. When he woke up in the wee hours of predawn, he found himself in a state that hadn't occurred since his second year. Silently cursing himself as well as the blasted Muggle-born who was both cause and effect of his wet dream, he reached for his wand and scourgified his bed and body clean.

After breakfast, he had spent the entire day struggling to completely ignore her. When he couldn't do that, he would send her his trademark Malfoy sneer full of disdain and disapproval. That look wasn't hard to paste on, since it's truly how he felt about himself today. He was disgusted by his inability to differentiate between hormonal reaction and sincere attraction. This was all because of hormones, it had to be!

During classes he couldn't help but notice how Potter kept leaning over and whispering to Granger. Was it his imagination or was she more nervous around Scarhead now? He couldn't blame her of course, anyone in their right mind should keep as far away from The Boy Who Lived to Torment Himself. If she was supposedly so clever, why did she insist on accompanying him on his glory seeking feats of self-destruction? It only sustained the fact that she was possibly as mental as Potter, repeating the same mistake over and over again, expecting a different result. She was the most stubborn girl he had ever known, bar none.

What had she said to him last night when he posed as Krum? "Things with Harry are complicated." _I just bet they are! _And what sort of bloody knight in shining armor was Potter anyway, always putting her in harm's way? Damned dunderheads deserved each other! She obviously has some sort of kinked out mother complex with Potter, trying to constantly protect him. Draco reckoned that the real reason Potter had Granger next to him on his exhibitions was so he would have a reason to grope her and show off in front of her.

The Slytherin entered the Great Hall a full thirty minutes early. He had to sort out his plan of action before facing her again. He looked over the room and began levitating the tables, moving them against the walls. The simple action drew his mind back to the last time they practiced together.

Granger had almost hit him.

"_Tell me Granger, will you ride any seeker's Firebolt, or just the famous ones?"_

A roguish grin spread across his face as he recalled the encounter. She was pushing against his shoulders, hands fisted as she started to pummel his chest while he held her low to the ground in an effortless dip.

"_Malfoy! You supreme letch! Stop being a barbarous neanderthal and let me up!"_

_Her mouth was tightlipped and eyes narrowed in anger. The tighter he held her the more she struggled._

"_Come now, Granger," he said softly, "It's just a dance, why so dramatic?"_

"_Release. Me. Now. Malfoy!"_

"_So it's release you want...you only had to ask." _

_One of his hands held her lower back and the other snaked down to her bum and gave it a squeeze. Call it choreographer's license. Or not. _

_Her reaction was swift, the slender left hand swung up to slap him. If he hadn't grabbed her wrist just in time, it would have been a repeat of last year's most embarrassing moment._

"_Malfoy, I always knew you were a bounder, but this," she spat at him, ".. this just proves what a total tragedy you really are! Don't you get enough attention from your Slytherin fan club without you having to resort to forcing yourself on me!"_

_His eyes narrowed at her comment, the dark grey turning to stoney slate. This was Granger, the tight-arsed Gryffindor, and she would never change. No charm, no amount of magic would help her. Her sort would only consider him as a dueling partner and not__hing else. She would always think herself too good for him. How bloody rich was that!_

_He brought her up with a forceful, yet fluid motion and released her, holding his hands up level with his head in mock surrender. "Granger, you just suck the fun out of a room like a dementor sucks out happiness."_

_She stormed over to the table, grabbed her jacket and retreated faster than the Quidditch fans did from the Death Eaters last month at the World Cup._

"_So'right," he chuckled as she ran from the room. "I needed a little ice for my fire."_

Hermione Granger was the opposite of everything he liked in a girl. She was completely unaware of her appearance. She couldn't be bothered with anything that was even remotely close to being fashionable. Her shoes were ugly and outdated. Her hair was always in the way, massive amounts of curls everywhere. When she attempted to brush them out, it just turned into a bushy frizz ball. She didn't own any sort of make-up. The first bottle of perfume she properly possessed was the one he just gave her.

The potion, he reflected, would be his redemption. Granger was able to top him with better marks in every class they attended together except one. He knew it was not because his Godfather favored him that he bested Granger on every potion they were assigned to concoct. Draco had an affinity for the art of mixing potions. His creation in the crystal would soon prove him a worthy opponent in her eyes.

He grinned wickedly at the thought of her applying a drop on each wrist, behind each ear and kneecap, and between the small valley of her breasts. Unbeknownst to the Gryffindor Princess, she would soon be in for an entertaining surprise!

Hermione was still flustered over her own actions the night before. What had come over her! What on earth had she been doing with making out with Viktor as if it was something she did on a daily basis: brush teeth, shower, eat, study, oh and don't forget to snog the Bulgarian blind. She slowly shook her head as she changed from her school uniform into her Muggle latex dance pants that she had packed away.

She had brought them for exercise purposes, but seemed to never really get the opportunity to use them until now. She frowned at her own reflection in the mirror. Her hair was tied up neatly in a large bun behind her head. The black material clung to her lower tummy and thighs, and flared out at the calf. She eyed her pink lace bra and the frown deepened.

When would she start showing signs of being a fifteen year old! Her birthday was next week, and she was still the most underdeveloped girl her age in Gryffindor. The Patil twins were the only exception, but everyone knew they were much more slender than Hermione.

She turned sideways and rolled her shoulders back, attempting to push out her chest a bit further. What exactly did Viktor see in her? Why would a young man of his fame and caliber be interested in her mousy person? She faced forward again and cupped her own small breasts, lifting them up higher, squeezing them slightly together. Shaking her head at her own feeble attempts to accentuate something that just wasn't there yet, she reached for the perfume crystal.

She held it up to the light of the window and marveled at the rainbow prisms that reflected against the walls of her bedroom. Such a beautiful bottle. Viktor was too kind to her. He was too much of everything when it came to Hermione. He was gentle, yet physically stronger than any male she had ever known. He was soft spoken, a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. Volumes from the Restricted Section!

Her face warmed and she unintentionally shivered at the memory of Viktor holding her in his arms, nibbling on her neck, kissing and claiming her mouth. Her eyes fluttered back to her small breasts. _Gods! _His hands were so warm, so tempting. Viktor Krum made her feel like a seventh year! He didn't see her as one of the boys, the way Harry and Ron had.

Harry.

What should she make of Harry's actions in the spring? Perhaps it was the Nirvae and all its surroundings, or the magic of the faeries, or maybe even the near death experience of being raked by a sphinx's claw. Whatever it was, she had snogged her best friend, and snogged him more than once! And to make it worse, she was seeing Viktor at the same time! She was a hussy!

She walked quickly over to her trunk and started rummaging through it looking for the pink chiffon dance wrap. She couldn't believe how fickle she felt at the moment. Up until a few weeks ago, no boy had so much as given her a second glance, and now she swapped saliva with not just any two boys, but the two most famous wizards of their time. The thought nearly brought her to tears. If it weren't so horrid it might actually be comical. Who would ever believe anyone of their salt would be interested in her?

Harry would be easier to talk to. He would be easier to sort out. After a nice long talk they could suss things out. Their friendship came first, above all else. But did she only want to be friends with Harry? Didn't she feel attracted to him as well?

She stopped her search in the trunk and sat back on her heels. Yes, she had to admit that she liked Harry's arm around her. She thrilled at his lips touching hers. And she could look into his huge green eyes all day. Did she ever tell him he had beautiful specks of yellow in his eyes when he laughed?

Someone needed to send her to St. Mungo's. She had completely lost her mind. She was sitting here day dreaming over two uniquely different young men that both were important to her, and yet she couldn't make up her mind on what she should do about them.

The edge of the pink wrap peeked out from under her winter muffler and she reached down and grabbed it. Pulling it over her head, she stood and looked at herself in the mirror as she wrapped the ties around her waist, taking in the wrinkles in the dance skirt as it floated down around her thighs. It would have to do.

She turned to leave, but saw the hues of the rainbow still shining against her wall. The perfume bottle was on her bed where she had dropped it to look in the trunk. She walked over and retrieved it, slowly unstopping it.

Holding it under her nose she deeply inhaled and immediately felt warm and tingly. It was a very subtle fragrance. She couldn't quite place it, it wasn't flowery or musky. It was very appealing, and she took in another sniff.

Maybe it would help her as she had to face down Malfoy in practice today. She touched the stopper to each wrist, and then softly rubbed them together. She lifted it to her tender spots behind each ear, and closed her eyes at the recollection of heated lips kissing and nibbling there. She lightly dragged the stopper down and dipped it into her slight cleavage. His finger had touched her here, drew small circles just above it. _Get hold of yourself Hermione!_

She quickly placed the crystal bottle back on her night stand next to her bed and hurried out to the common room. Harry smiled as she came rushing down the stairs.

"Alright there, Hermione?"

"Just running a bit late for the dance practice," she replied, "You all set then?"

Harry reached for her arm as she passed, but didn't grasp it. He thought he had better explain quickly, because it only took five minutes to get to the Great Hall. As they passed through the portrait Harry placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione, I need a few minutes before we go to the practice. I know we're a bit late, but Malfoy can wait five more minutes. Let's just talk while we walk."

Hermione nodded but didn't turn around to look at Harry. She merely placed her hand lightly on top of his while he held her shoulder and tapped it in confirmation.

"I think I've made it uncomfortable for you to be around me," Harry confided. "I'm not sure how to remedy this situation."

When Hermione didn't respond he pressed forward.

"I know you've always looked at me as a friend. A very important friend. Pretty much the same as I've looked at you. You're probably the most important person in my life you know?"

She nodded but still held her silence.

"Mione, I don't want to be greedy. I don't want to ask you for more. But ..." he stopped walking and tugged on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "But I am. I know my timing sucks. I know this can't possibly help anything right now, it can only make things worse. Ron will hate me, but he'll get over it. Krum will possibly pulverize me, but I'll get over it."

"Harry..." she started.

Harry shook his head and held his hand up, trying to gather all his Gryffindor courage he could muster.

"It's difficult to be satisfied with simply being comfortable and safe. That's what we have been doing. You know that there is great possibly here between us. You've felt it too, otherwise you would not have allowed me to kiss you. Again."

Hermione took Harry's hand and linked her fingers in his. She nudged him forward to continue walking.

_Just tell him. Pay the piper._

"You know I was with Viktor last night Harry... right after kissing you." She squeezed his hand for strength. Hoping she would not lose her best friend, she took in a deep breath.

"We kissed." _Again and again and again._

She really didn't want to hurt him, but she knew she had to be honest, because that was a constant between her and Harry: integrity and trust. Her eyes felt misty, her palms were perspiring, and the back of her neck felt clammy.

"I'm not in a state where I can commit to more than friendship with you right now, Harry. And it's not right for me to be snogging Viktor one minute and you the next. We've been through this."

It was Harry's turn to be silent. His face was unreadable. He looked directly ahead as she continued.

"Listen, it's not as if I'm Viktor's girlfriend or anything. But he and I have been seeing each other in the library, and well... " she hesitated, looking for the right words. "He is a nice sort, Harry. Kind, gentle, and completely accepting of all my flaws."

Harry felt he had to give it one last shot.

"Going to the library isn't really dating, Hermione. But I understand what you're saying. I'm not going to pressure you. You know where to find me when you need me. If you change your mind..." He pulled her to him and gave her a strong embrace.

Hermione's arms wrapped around Harry's back as she buried her face in his chest. He would always be like coming home. She did feel safe when she was with him. She felt like she belonged there in his arms. But at the same time, she knew she needed to be truthful with Viktor first.

Minutes later they arrived at the Great Hall to find a pacing Draco Malfoy. On the right of the room, a bored Bulgarian sat patiently on a bench with his legs crossed at the ankles.

When Draco turned and noticed the golden duo walk through the door he merely raised his chin several inches higher and placed his hands in his pockets, spreading his feet widely apart. He took in Hermione's dance attire and grinned. She looked delicious. But today would be his to seize and conquer.

"No timepiece in the Gryffindor common room, or do you make it a habit of making everyone spin on your axis?"

"Sorry," muttered Hermione.

Draco strutted casually to the pair, and leaned in to Hermione.

"You'd think the instructor could at least manage to set a better example. Shall we say 10 points from Gryffindor?"

Viktor stood and cleared his throat at the same time as Harry pulled Hermione to stand slightly behind him.

"You're three years too early for Head Boy, Malfoy." Harry moved closer to his nemesis. "And a hundred years too early if you think you can take on Gryffindor."

Draco didn't want to waste any more time on this banter. He had more important things to engender.

"Fine," Draco said, "Let's get this over with... Potty, you and Krum will take turns with your favorite lioness. Share nicely now."

As the music played, Draco instructed each boy how to hold their arms up, elbows square with the shoulders, backs straightened, shoulders back. They began with the simple three step waltz.

Harry and Hermione attempted to keep up to the music, but Hermione was having a very difficult time. The first thing she noticed was that she had finally found something that Harry Potter was a complete novice at! He not only couldn't dance, but it appeared that her best friend had no rhythm whatsoever. His feet shuffled, he dragged them instead of dancing on the balls. He kept looking down when he was supposed to look at her, and he stepped on her toes twice, apologizing profusely each time.

Krum danced alongside of Draco, not as his partner, but copying the instructions as Draco showed him. He was a decent dancer. He was a bit stiff, but Draco imagined that he would probably do much better if he had a partner instead of having to dance next to another male.

Draco felt a sudden discomfort when he glanced at the Bulgarian and Krum had quickly looked down to Draco's feet. It was then that Draco recalled the last encounter he had had with Krum. Draco felt flushed with embarrassment but refused to acknowledge it.

He watched the Gryffindor duo make pitiful attempts at dancing and immediately felt more frustrated. This wasn't right! Potter was going to mess everything up! What a complete bonehead! Of course he should have figured that The Boy Who Had No Culture wouldn't know how to dance!

Draco looked closer at Hermione and he leered as he saw not only signs of her visible discomfort from her mismatched partner, but also the incipent crimson flush of her face.

Hermione was trying her best to try and guide Harry when she felt herself growing warmer. Her skin felt tingly, and her head was growing lighter. It started with her wrists. She felt feathery touches kissing the insides of each wrist, and working their way up her arms. She missed a beat and nearly stumbled into Harry.

"Alright, Mione?"

She nodded fiercely but didn't answer. Why did it feel like Harry was kissing her slowly up her arms? She tightened her hold on his shoulder and hand and closed her eyes, trying to pay attention to the music.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt Harry nibbling tenderly along her neck just under her left ear. But Harry still stood a foot away from her, looking down at their feet and trying to concentrate on the waltz.

Draco wanted to clap out loud. This was going to get interesting! Just wait until Krum notices! Soon Granger would be writhing in Potty's arms, and knowing the attraction that Potthead felt for her, he would welcome it. Draco couldn't wait to see Krum hammer him into the ground! Not to mention the added bonus of watching the squeaky clean ice queen start to melt.

He turned to face them as Hermione grounded to a halt. Her head was feeling fuzzy, and she couldn't help but feel as though somehow Harry was touching her neck, dragging his fingers along the column on either side. She was short of breath and when Harry tried to pull her closer she pushed him away.

"Harry," she panted, "I think we need to switch partners now."

It had to be some sort of reaction she was feeling toward her best friend. Something she hadn't felt before. Something that made her want to crawl up on him in front of both Malfoy and Viktor. She didn't know what on earth had possessed her to feel this inappropriate attraction to Harry, but she wouldn't allow it to go any further.

"Look now, Granger" Draco interrupted, "Potter obviously needs the most help here, so you'll need to keep working with him."

She breathed heavily and furrowed her eyes in concentration, biting her bottom lip. She could feel Harry's fingers on her forearm again, and they stopped on the fold of her elbow before slowly working their way up her inner biceps. She whimpered as she folded her arms across her chest and rubbed them.

"Mione what's wrong?" queried Harry.

Viktor had now come to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder, his head cocked in a questioning observation. This was the man she had kissed so fervently last night. This was the one she should be fantasizing over, not her best friend! She turned to Viktor and immediately went into his arms.

She held herself in the waltz position and took in deep breath. Then she fluidly moved gracefully across the floor with the Bulgarian.

"Confound it!" Draco muttered under his breath. This wasn't how it was supposed to unfold. His carefully laid plans had just started to unravel.

Harry stood his ground, completely confused at what had just happened, feeling a mixture of anger, jealously and bewilderment. What had gotten into Hermione?

Draco moved to stand next to his nemesis, not even attempting to continue with the lesson. He watched carefully as the Bulgarian lifted his partner up off the ground in a tight spin, and then brought her back down against him.

Hermione thought it was just with Harry that had her imagining the bothersome yet strangely erotic touches, but as Viktor lifted then lowered her she nearly let out a gasp at the warmth she suddenly felt between her breasts. She sucked in her breath as she remembered his hands on her last night, trickling lightly on her tummy and ribs.

Viktor leaned into a low dip and Hermione released his shoulder, extended her arm all the way behind her, watching it reach for the wall. Her neck leaned back, as if inviting him to continue where they had left off last night.

When her leg rose slowly from a pointed extension to curl up his thigh and pull him in closer, Viktor's eyes darkened and a seductive smile spread across his lips. Something about the way she was dancing was completely different from the Hermione he knew, but this wasn't at all disagreeable.

Draco and Harry unknowingly both clenched their hands into fists.

The ministrations were much stronger now; Hermione felt like she was on fire. It was a combination of lips, fingers and tongues that were massaging her, laving her, nibbling on her. She felt them on her neck, behind her ears, up and down her arms, behind her legs climbing slowly up her thighs, and in between her breasts, moving torturously slowly around each breast.

She could no longer control her thoughts. All she could see in her mind was Viktor and the wonderfully deep kisses he took from her last night. Her extended arm reached up and stroked his cheek, then moved to the nape of his neck as she pulled him closer.

Draco was infuriated. The twit was obviously remembering their evening together last night, but was wrongfully giving Krum all the credit! He had wanted Potter to receive his due with a good pummeling from Krum. Krum would have broken things off with Granger after seeing her throw herself at her best friend right in front of him! Not to mention that the ice queen would have given Krum a verbal thrashing for daring to lay a finger on her golden boy.

But this, this was wrong! Granger was seducing Krum right before their eyes. Draco's lip tasted of copper when he realized that he had been biting down on it. Seeing Granger with Krum flooded him with every single memory he had been trying so hard to forget... her taste, her smell, the softness of her skin, her moan.

Hermione then pulled Viktor's face down to hers, and plunged her tongue into his mouth in a desperate kiss, wrapping her leg nearly around his waist. The deep moan Draco had heard last night filled the room.

The room exploded with motion and screams.


	16. Throwing a Wobbly

**Chapter 16; Throwing a Wobbly**

"Oi!" screamed Harry, as he rushed forward and pulled roughly on Krum's shoulder. Draco found himself propelled forward as well. "Get off her, Krum!" Harry yelled as he pulled Viktor up from the dip, but the Bulgarian's hands were still holding her. Draco was on autopilot as he yanked her hand from Krum's grasp and pulled her toward him.

"What are you doing!" Draco seethed through clenched teeth.

She was completely flustered, and just stared at him wide-eyed and frozen in place.

Harry's face was dark and angry, his chest rising and falling, his hands clenched in fists. "What do you think you're playing at here, Krum! This is a dance! Not ... a ... not ... whatever it is you have in mind!"

Viktor had regained his composure somewhat and looked at Hermione, who was watching Harry, who was glaring at Krum. Draco quickly took in all three of them, as he tried to stabilize the racing heartbeat that stampeded in his chest.

This might still just work out in his favor after all!

He quickly released Hermione's wrist and smoothed out his robes. The cunning Slytherin went into quick action.

"Granger," he said calmly, "I don't' think we had better add that bit into the waltz. It would appear that Potty doesn't approve."

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Harry spat at Draco.

Viktor switched his target of interest from Hermione to Harry. He slightly narrowed his eyes at Harry, raising his head up, accentuating the full five inches of height he had over over the Gryffindor. He rounded his shoulders back, puffing his broad chest out.

Harry blustered at the action. "Well aren't you going to apologize!"

"Harry," Hermione begged softly, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. She still felt the awful sensations rushing over her limbs and again she crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed them, as if trying to warm herself.

"Harry, it wasn't his fault!" she continued.

Harry looked at Hermoine for the first time since charging in to separate the two. He reached for one of her hands, and pulled her toward him. "Yeah, well, he knows better, doesn't he? He's eighteen, isn't he?"

Viktor spoke for the first time. "Hermyninny, I'm sorry." Then he walked up to Harry and stood nearly a foot within his reach, and he looked down to emphasize his words, "I'm sorry was _here_, but not sorry it happened." It was an unspoken challenge between the two TriWizard Champions.

Viktor reached down and took Hermione's free wrist and softly tugged her back toward him, attempting to walk away.

Harry had the other wrist still in his grasp, and yanked a bit harder on it, keeping Hermione planted next to his side, where she belonged.

Draco took a conscience step backward with a satisfactory grin and knew all he had to do was let this unfold. The two young wizards were going to play tug of war with the Gryffindor Princess.

""Mione, come here!" Harry pulled. "I think you had better stay with me!"

"She's not yours, Potter," countered the Bulgarian. He spread his feet apart, firmly planting them in a domineering stance, and tugged again on Hermione's wrist.

Harry immediately bristled at the unspoken claim, and felt more than protective of Hermione. Just where did he get off thinking he had any claim whatsoever on Hermione? This Bulgarian had no idea how long they had been friends, and how much they had been through together. He was an interloper. He was just temporary!

"Well she certainly isn't _yours, _Krum!" he reinforced his declaration with another tug on Hermione. "Let her go, now!"

Viktor muttered a few words in Bulgarian, which obviously meant something along the lines of '_go wank yourself_.'

Hermione was jostled by the two of them yanking on her, and became unglued. Her neatly pinned bun had started to unfurl, and a few tendrils of curls came loose.

"Will both of you stop!" She was completely put off by this overt display of testosterone, and knew she had to set things back in balance.

"I'm not taffy!" She roughly pulled her arms free from both of them and then rubbed her wrists to emphasize how forceful they had become in their efforts to prove her as their property.

Viktor crossed his arms, still watching Harry. He looked immediately repentant when he chanced a glance at Hermione. He rarely lost his temper, and never behaved so brutish before when it concerned a girl.

Sure he had played rough out in the Quidditch pitches, and gave much better than he ever received when it came to the game. He was quicker than any wizard on a broom, including Harry Bloody Potter!

But this wasn't just any girl, this was his Hermyninny. She was the only one that had ever been natural around him, not acting like some crazed fan wanting to be near him without even knowing him. This young girl knew him better than any girl in his own country, and they had only just met! She was honest with him, and she truly cared without pretense.

Viktor bowed in front of Hermione, surprising all them.

Harry backed up a step and was ready to grab his wand from his robe pocket. Surely Hermione wouldn't fall for such a grandiose gesture as that one! Just exactly who did this foreigner think he was anyway?

He looked quickly at Hermione who still looked fevered, her faced not quite as vividly red as it was when she jerked herself out of their grasp.

"Hermione," Harry ventured to get her attention off the Bulgarian.

Viktor then held his hand out to her, with the other arm folded behind him, clicking his heels together he inclined his head but still held her gaze.

"We continue," Viktor explained.

"Bollocks!" exclaimed Harry. "As if she'd go with you now after having a pash with you right here!"

Hermione swung her attention at Harry and put her hands on her hips. "Harry! Enough!"

"What!" retorted Harry

"Just leave it! I can speak for myself. I can protect myself..._ if_ I need to."

She just didn't understand. Harry knew she didn't know how boys function, and what kind of things go through their minds and bodies when you snog them the way she just did! Obviously she had gotten better at it since the night in the common room, and even since the spring. He shook his head at her, negating anything she said.

Harry changed tactics. "Look Krum, I think you've done enough dancing for one day!"

"Harry James Potter!"

"What!! I'm telling you, Hermione, this one is dodgy! He's eighteen! Way too old for you!" Harry was working himself up in to quite a lather now, frustrated that Hermione couldn't see what was two feet in front of her. She obviously had been blinded by him, or worse, had developed some sort of physical bonding with the Bulgarian ape. Harry would make her understand!

"Durmstrang wizards do not snog or even date Gryffindors! Slytherins, maybe! But not Gryffindors! Not without nefarious reasons!"

Viktor took immediate exception to the young wizard's stereotype and raised his eyebrow. "Why you say this?"

"Because it's true! I mean come on, what insidious reason could you have for dating Hermione?"

"_WHAT_!" she nearly exploded.

Malfoy chuckled to himself as he took another few steps backwards, out of range from any oncoming, errant curses.

"That's not what I meant, 'Mione and you know it! I mean the bloke is four years older than you! Why isn't he dating someone his own age?"

She gritted her teeth together and uncrossed her arms, now flexing her fingers and then balling them into fists. "He's THREE years my elder, and _what_ has that got to do with anything?"

"Because he's of age now, isn't he!"

"... _AND?_" she demanded.

"And he knows things, Hermione." Harry tried to explain it in terms that she would understand, without making this too uncomfortable. "Things that you _don't!"_

"_AND? _So do you, I might point out! So do a lot other students, Harry!"

Draco scoffed inwardly --- unlikely that any student in Hogwarts knew as much as the brunette witch, but he wasn't about to admit it. He knew exactly what Potter had meant. He considered himself a perfect example. When he smirked it was like an evil deed waiting to happen. Potter was dead to rights, but was certainly a thicko for bringing it up here.

Harry wasn't making himself clear enough. Viktor seemed to have an idea where this was going and lowered his extended hand. Harry walked up to Hermione and lowered his voice, but not low enough that he still couldn't be heard by Malfoy and Krum.

"He's a full grown wizard now, Hermione. A full grown_ MALE _wizard."

"Oh Harry, come off it!" Hermione rolled her eyes the way she always did at Ron when she was exasperated with his lack of understanding. "All wizards are male, aren't they? Don't think I don't know what you're going on about! Viktor's not like that!"

Viktor edged closer to Hermione just as Harry had.

Harry wanted to take Hermione by the shoulders and shake her. Was she doing this on purpose? How could she stand there and defend the Durmstrang wizard and not see his side of this? Surely Krum didn't hold any power over her?

"So he's never tried anything then? He's been perfectly platonic, has he?" Harry had had enough with beating around the bush. He'd just spell it out for her.

Hermione sucked in her breath and turned beet red.

Malfoy immediately snapped to attention at where this conversation was headed. If he didn't do something quickly then he could be compromised! He needed to regain control over this conversation before things were revealed about last night.

Viktor had lowered his gaze now at Harry, and furrowed his brows while trying to maintain his composure.

"This is none of your business, Potter!"

"Harry, _really! _I can't believe you would bring that up!"

"What! Let's get this out in the open then! Let's talk about who's snogging who!"

Hermione went an even deeper shade of scarlet, from head to toe and Draco seemed to be the only one that noticed since Potter and Krum were too busy sizing each other up for an imminent round of fist of cuffs.

Potty was about to rain destruction down, by mentioning last night, and would ruin everything, the way he always did!

"Look here, Potter," Draco walked toward them, raising his voice. "This isn't a TriWizard Championship Task! It's just a bloody dance!"

"Feck off, Malfoy!" Harry seethed, without taking his eyes off of Krum. "This doesn't concern you."

"It most certainly does!" Draco boomed. "This is _my time, my dance practice! _And you're piddling about, wasting everyone's air space."

"Perhaps we should discuss this outside, Potter," Viktor offered.

Hermione immediately came between the two and held her hands out, pushing them both further apart.

"Look, let's just calm down," she reasoned. "We don't want to fly off the handle over such a trivial matter."

"Snogging isn't trivial to me, Hermione!"

"I didn't mean it like that, Harry! I meant that fighting over this isn't right! I need to talk to Viktor!"

"No, Granger," Malfoy corrected, "you need to finish choreographing this dance! We only have a handful of weeks left, and now thanks to Sir Lancelot and Baron VonSnog here, we haven't gotten anything accomplished today!"

All three of them turned to Draco, Viktor and Harry both glared at him, and Hermione almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

"So let's say you two alpha males take your pissing contest outside, while Granger and I finish up, shall we?" It would serve Potter right, let him get a good thrashing by Krum. Hopefully Krum knew a few dark curses he could cast as well!

"Fine with me!" Harry exclaimed. He closed the space between him and the large Bulgarian. "You startin'?"

"NO!" Hermione stomped.

Before Viktor could answer, Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm and then pointed to the door. "You!" she commanded, "Out! Now!" While she pointed with one hand, she gave him a push with the other.

Harry pulled away abruptly from her and spun around to face her. "Hermione! Let's just get this out and done with, now!"

"Not if you're just going to spit the dummy! You're in serious need of some anger management, Harry Potter!"

When Harry appeared not to want to budge, Hermione lowered her voice and turned so that only Harry could see and hear her.

"Let me do this _my_ way, Harry, or we don't do it at all." She then softened the edge in her voice, taking a deep breath. "Please, for me?"

Harry curtly nodded at Hermione and turned to leave without another glance at the Bulgarian.

Draco had to give her credit. She was quite persuasive when she wanted to be. Whatever she had said made scarhead concede. He made a mental note of that.

"Say Krum," Draco said, "how about we pick this back up on the next session? I really need time with your... partner. We need to finish the choreography. We've accomplished a piss-poor amount of dancing anyway."

Viktor nodded in confirmation back at Draco. He knew he needed to go flying to clear his head. He had let things get out of control. He wanted to be much calmer when he spoke with Hermione.

The Bulgarian walked up to her and rubbed both arms, leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "We will talk later?"

Hermione barely managed a smile in return. "I'm so sorry, Viktor. I don't know what came over me. And I certainly don't know what came over Harry. Should I come with you?"

Viktor smiled back at her, his eyes twinkling with gratitude. He was happy just to have her make that offer to him. He spoke softly when he answered her.

"You stay with the pale _vesel. _He's right, you need to finish dance."

Hermione cocked her head at the use of his native Bulgarian language. "Vesel?"

Viktor leaned over and whispered, "How you say? Boys who like boys?"

Hermione burst out with a laugh, then quickly covered her mouth. Viktor thought Draco Malfoy was gay! The Slytherin had gotten his just desserts as far as she was concerned. She could see how it could be misconstrued, Malfoy always wearing the latest fashion, probably had his own hair stylist, private manicurist and masseuse! Malfoy definitely was pampered.

"Later then," Viktor repeated. He patted her head and turned to leave. Viktor seemed to like patting her on the head.

"Something amusing?" Draco asked her pointedly, without a bit of amusement in his own voice.

"Viktor seems to be under the impression that you're a pillow-biter, Malfoy. However did he come to that conclusion, I wonder?"

Draco turned at least two shades of red. She would not turn this into her game! This day would be his to seize, and he'd put her in her place pronto.

"I bet you just loved that, didn't you, Granger? Both of the world's most famous young seekers panting over you!" he drawled. He felt angry at the her. No matter if she was under the potion's influence or not, she still didn't seem to be affected by his presence. Why was he the only seeker she wouldn't seek?

He closed the space between them and lowered his voice as well as his mouth to her ear. "Probably got you worked up there, didn't it? Two rabid dogs fighting over their ..." Malfoy cleared his throat before he continued, "... snitch."

"Keep your snarky remarks at a minimum, Malfoy, or we're done!"

"Oh we are far from done, Granger. You talk like you've got a choice..." He pointed his wand back at phonograph, which had stopped playing the music. "_Tocarus_!"

The music immediately began playing again. Draco smiled sideways at her knowingly. He bowed and then extended an arm, just as Krum had done, minus the heel clicking.

"You don't get to choose, Granger. Now come to Papa."

**A/N: **I just wanted to thank all of the great reviews I've had from so many of you! I have tried to answer them all if they had an email address attached. I laughed so hard at them! I can't believe that RiddikulusSugarQuill took the time to read all 245+ reviews! That's too funny! You guys ROCK!

Vesel is the English phonetic pronunciation of the Bulgarian word, written in Cyrillic alphabet. My PC doesn't have that font, so it's just a well that I wrote it out in english! Yes I actually researched this on the net:-)

For you fellow Yanks, "Spit the Dummy" is a Briticism for temper tantrum (dummy baby's pacifier)... my mum said it many times! ;-) "Having a pash" is like snogging!

And according to my naughty male cuzzies in Exeter, "Pillow biter" is just the same as all the other slang they use: Fudge Packer, Poofta, Fop, Ponce... You get the idea!

Finally as a special note, the chapters that are posted on AFF and FF are raw. No beta, no cleaning, no nice and shiny punctuation! You get me as I am! LOL But I am also a perfectionist, so the versions that are posted on Coloured Grey and Fiction Alley have been beta'd by Lisa725 and Eilonwy! Also thanks to Kazfiest for her notes she sends me on these raws after I post them! Since beta's do this for the love of it, I would never try and rush them. So we only have 3 chapters posted thus far! Consider yourselves all "Alpha!" LOL!


	17. Tootsie

**Chapter 17: Tootsie**

Harry didn't know how it could get any worse. Hermione was upset at him, he didn't have a date for the upcoming Yule Ball, he couldn't dance a lick to save an elf's life, let alone his own, and he still had not figured out the secret of the golden egg for the upcoming second task. His overall out take on things: gloom and doom. He stood in the owlery overlooking the lake as one of the school owls took flight with another missive to Sirius. Even his Godfather's advice had failed. No, more precisely, _he_ had failed. He still was a complete and utter pillock when it came to the opposite sex. _Harry Potter, The Boy Who_ _Blows._

Still brooding, he recalled his rushed "youwannagototheballwithme" invitation to Cho a few minutes ago. She was his second choice, and even she wasn't available to him. He received unsolicited invitations left, right and center from girls he barely knew, yet he couldn't speak intelligently to the pretty Ravenclaw.

Not to mention, the not-so-small reminder of the other Triwizard champion from Durmstrang. Harry glanced over at the tall, dark foreboding ship in the lake, took aim at it with an imaginary rifle, cocked it and made his own sound effects for target practice.

All those silly fur hats, black shiny boots and big walking sticks must make them pretty sure of themselves. Honestly!

The lump in his throat and pit in his stomach vied for attention every time he thought about it. Hermione was going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. Hermione had snogged Krum in front of him. Then she expelled _him_ from the room, in no uncertain terms, forcing him to shove off when he knew good and well he should have stayed and put the Bulgarian in his place.

"This sucks," he mumbled. He was at a loss at how he could set things to rights.

The whole idea of romancing girls confused Harry. It was enough to stump the great minds of wizard and Muggle alike. No male pureblood, squib, Muggle or anything in-between could ever figure out women. Why would he be any luckier then generation upon generation of wizards that found themselves as befuddled as head banging elves?

Hermione cared about him, he knew this without any cause for doubt. Yet she wouldn't let him protect her against the invasion from Eastern Europe. When they were at the spring, she kissed him back. _She let me kiss her and she kissed me_

He closed his eyes momentarily, recalling her hovering over his face when he leaned back against the edge of the water. They shared a spectacular 'upside down' kiss, when she was on the bank of the spring and leaned over his reclined head. It was the most intimate moment of his short fifteen years of life.

He concluded that his best friend, the brightest witch of her age, had him loopy trying to figure her out, but she seemed to understand him perfectly well.

Yet she wouldn't break things off with Krum. She still insisted on being his date for the Yule Ball. _Just wait until Ron find outs! _

He instantly knew he wouldn't be the one to tell Ron. He couldn't, because he had promised Hermione. He wanted to tell him, just to have someone else who could share in this misery! Or maybe the reason for this sudden need of camaraderie with Ron was because his mate was just as clueless at finding a date to the bloody ball.

Whatever the reason, he wouldn't breech his word with Hermione. She had her reasons, apparently something to do with Kakaroff's disapproval. All the more telling: she shouldn't be going with Krum!

He leaned his head against the windowed opening in the tower and remembered her pleading with him to keep this a secret.

"Why can't we tell Ron? He's our friend!"

"Because you know Ron can't keep a secret like this private! He'll just make a big scene and soon everyone will know."

"Hermione, it's just not on. You're hiding things from him. Hiding from everyone. Says a lot doesn't it, when you've got to hide things from your own friends? How can this be right?"

"Don't you dare get 'holier-than-thou' with me, Harry! How many times have you kept things from us? How many hundreds of times have you kept secrets from Professor Dumbledore? How about Sirius, I suppose you tell him absolutely everything that's been going on this year have you?"

Hermione wasn't wrong. He had kept his own secrets for various reasons. He should probably trust her to be right in this matter. He really wanted to, but the Bulgarian Factor made it very difficult.

Harry smiled to himself as he reached into his robe and withdrew the tightly sealed parchment and walked over to the snow white owl. He stroked her head before he attached the paper.

"Her birthday's right around the corner," he mused. "Won't she be surprised, Hedwig?"

He finished off strapping the leather around the parchment and held out his arm for his pet owl to perch on. Carrying her to one of the many windowed arches, the snowy cooed at him in response.

So, he couldn't dance. What was the big deal about not having a date to the ball just yet? And who cares if he takes longer than the other champions to figure out the clue in the egg? He wasn't going to let himself fall apart over any of it.

At least he had a plan.

oo00oo

Draco held his arms open, back erect, and chest puffed out in an ever so confident yet inviting way. For a mere boy of fifteen years, Hermione thought he was scandalous to have so much self assurance! He obviously believed his own propaganda!

She cautiously walked up to face him and he genuinely smiled at her. Not a smirk, or a sneer! She knew all of his trademark Malfoy grins, but this was nothing like that. This was different. His eyes lit up and sparkled, she could see his perfectly straight teeth, and he even had a small dimple in his left cheek that she never noticed before!

He tenderly placed his arm around her back, took her hand in his and led her into a waltz of sorts. She was somewhat timorous at first, but he led with confidence.

_Time... I've been passing time watching trains go by_

_All of my life..._

_Lying on the sand, watching seabirds fly_

"Muggle music?" she questioned, truly surprised at his selection of songs. "Malfoy, how did you get Muggle music to play here?"

_Wishing there would be_

_Someone waiting home for me..._

His smile broadened. He quickened his footwork and led both of them into a spin together, lengthening his stride with each turn, keeping his knees from bending, he led her easily with the scissored motion.

_Something's telling me it might be you_

_It's telling me it might be you..._

_All of my life..._

He leaned in closer so that his cheek brushed against her hair. His lips were practically at her ear as he began to hum along with the music.

_Looking back as lovers go walking past..._

_All of my life_

_Wondering how they met and what makes it last_

Something about having Draco Malfoy hum in her ear was just too much for Hermione. She wasn't sure if it was his selection of music, or the way he had moved closer as they danced. It definitely had something to do with hearing his low, melodic hum from deep in his throat play in her ear so intimately, as if he were doing this just for her.

_If I found the place_

_Would I recognize the face?_

_Something's telling me it might be you_

_Yeah, it's telling me it might be you_

Hermione leaned her head away from Draco, trying to peer up at his face to see if she could read what his intent was. Why he was acting so nonchalant, and dancing with her as if they'd danced together for years?

"Malfoy?" she queried.

"Shhh," he hushed her.

He extended his arm out, releasing Hermione's back, and allowing her to spin as he held her hand, then expertly guided her back to his arms. He swayed in place with her to and fro as he continued to hum. He had such a nice hum.

_So many quiet walks to take_

_So many dreams to wake_

_And we've so much love to make_

"But how do you know this song?" she was puzzled, because she knew he didn't watch Muggle movies. He made it clear that he hated anything to do with Muggles!

She didn't have time to wait for his answer, he leaned her into a low dip, and it was at this precise moment that he actually started softly singing the lyrics! Draco Malfoy, pureblood snob, was singing to Muggle music! And he sang so well!

_I think we're gonna need some time_

_Maybe all we need is time..._

_And it's telling me it might be you_

_All of my life..._

Her years of dance training seemed to be forgotten. She was no longer able to flow lithely to the music. She was overcome with nervous shock at the handsome face that had completely disregarded the fact that he is supposed to hate her, hate the music he's accompanying with his fine baritone voice, and most especially hate touching her. She was barely able to hide her confusion now. Her feet skipped a few steps, and her hand clasped his tighter.

She couldn't help but self-consciously glance around the room to see if this was some sort of joke.

"Malfoy," she repeated.

_I've been saving love songs and lullabies_

_And there's so much more_

_No one's ever heard before..._

His smile never faded the entire time he sang. Her steps had gotten smaller, less certain, much more wary. She was no longer gliding, she was barely able to follow. She was half a beat off with each movement.

He lifted her above him, without warning he extended both arms up in the air, lifting her so that her waist was now at his eye level. She clamped onto his shoulders while calling out his name yet again. He spun her around, and she actually gasped this time. The air felt so heavy to breath in!

_Something's telling me it might be you_

_Yeah, it's telling me it must be you_

_And I'm feeling it'll just be you_

_All of my life..._

_It's you.._

_It's you..._

_I've been waiting for all of my life..._

When he lowered her from the lift, he did so very slowly, his hands still clasped around her waist. He closed the distance between them, bringing her down against his chest, holding her to him.

Her head was spinning. She was completely disoriented.

"What's gotten into you, Malfoy?"

He hadn't spoken a word to her during the entire dance. He just smiled and led her expertly in movement.

Holding her tightly against him, he kept his legs straight and twirled with her. When they came out of the spin he released his hold on her and then gave her a half turn.

_Maybe it's you..._

_Maybe it's you..._

_I've been waiting for all of my life..._

She was now facing the same direction him. He pulled her against his chest, his arms crossed in front of her, holding her as he swayed. He lowered his lips to her ear as he sang softly.

Against her better judgment, she leaned back on to his chest. Hermione couldn't keep from closing her eyes.

_Maybe it's you..._

_Maybe it's you..._

_I've been waiting for all of my life.._

They continued a slow, lazy sway, even after the musical piece had ended and another began.

All thoughts of his bigotry, his arrogance, his never ending insults all faded away in this moment. It was as if she had latched on to a hidden portkey that had whisked her off into another dimension. In this new, warm world, Draco Malfoy was quite tolerable. He bordered on adorable.

Her head leaned back onto his shoulder, and she felt it before she heard it. The strong and steady pulsing of his heartbeat. She was positive that he must be able to feel hers as well, since her entire body practically vibrated with the thrumming.

Something was horridly amiss!

Hermione regained her bearings, and righted herself from Draco's chest.

Before she could pull away, he tightened his hold, refusing to let her end their dance.

"Charmed," he answered.

She lifted her face to his, and questioned merely with eyes.

"That particular song was charmed onto the album. Didn't you like it?"

She wasn't sure what to do or say. There were precious few moments in her life when she was speechless, and this was one of them. Of course she liked the song, but it was so disconcerting to have his arms still wrapped around her, and be this close to her arch nemesis.

"Look, Malfoy, I know full well that you couldn't give a fig for what I like or don't like. I'm not sure why you're behaving the way you are, but it's so..."

"Normal? Human? Impossibly appealing?"

"Un-Slytherinlike!" she finished.

She thrust her weight into breaking off his embrace and turned to face him.

"Since when do you listen to Muggle music? And what insipid prank are you trying to pull this time?"

His smile never faltered. To his credit it truly appeared as if he was enjoying himself.

"You're much too high strung, Granger. So suspicious of a simple dance. And yet..."

She waited for him to finish, but he simply waved his hand, dismissing the thought.

While the music continued in the background, Draco went about the business of explaining a bit of choreography that he had worked on.

"As you're aware, in the traditional ballroom waltz, the man steps forward," he demonstrated this to Hermione without touching her. "Then putting his right leg between his partner's legs, then he takes his left leg forward and to the side." She automatically followed his leading footwork with corresponding steps.

"Then he closes right to left. In the next bar he steps backward on his left, and it's the lady's turn to step forward on the right." He held up his arms again, inviting her to join him.

"I want to mix this up a bit. What do you think? Try this, the first step is where you do most of the traveling. It really isn't forward-side-together; it's step-two-three, step-two-three. If you concentrate on the first step and let the other two just happen, you'll find the whole thing much easier."

Someone had body-snatched Draco Malfoy. Or perhaps he was under the imperius curse. Or ...

She leaned forward and sniffed his neck.

Draco was a bit put off by this and stopped his dancing.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly sound explanation for you wanting a taste, Granger, but contrary to public opinion, I'm not edible."

"Polyjuice potion?"

He nearly tripped over his own feet.

"What!"

His smile finally broke.

"No, on second thought, I suppose that can't be it either, because we've been here for well over an hour now," she reasoned.

He cleared his throat and attempted to continue his instruction.

"The hold we were doing moments ago was a cape position." He guided her to turn next to him. "Cape position is where both dancers facing the same way," he moved closer to her. "Man on the left, right hand joined to right and left hand joined to left — like a matador with a cape. The man's left hand is behind the lady's back. I was thinking of an altered version, with a twirl."

There was no malice in his voice, there was no sneering, no posturing.

"So we're just going to keep dancing?"

He pulled her back into place in front of him.

"What else did you have in mind?" he lowered his voice and leaned into her.

"Ah, so it _is_ you!"

"You're actually a halfway decent dancer, Granger. If you would just keep that pretty mouth of yours closed, we could get so much more accomplished."

She began to struggle in his arms, but he refused to let her go.

"Malfoy, can you blame me? You're smiling, you're not being your usual snarky self, and you've gone an entire week without calling me --- well, you know."

"Actually it's been well over a month, if you want to be accurate, and there's obviously quite a bit about me that you don't know."

Instead of the traditional one-two-three step, he pivoted, tightening the connection between them, supporting her with his hold. He spoke to her softly, mouth against her ear.

"Did you know, for example, that much of the Muggle music you listen to is actually sung by magic folk?" He grinned at her surprise. "They like to keep it hush-hush, because it's not easy to crossover with the Muggle instruments being as rudimentary as they are, but yes, shock of ages!"

Before she could ask him names he continued.

"And it's not just musical artists, it's also painters, sculptures, and of course..." he dipped her low and held her there. "...dancers."

There was no where to go, nothing to say. She was completely taken in by all that was Malfoy. His scent, his beautiful smile, his charm, and his finesse. The last of her barriers had melted away and all she could do was gaze longingly into his liquid silver eyes. They instantly smoldered at her openness.

"It's your fault, you know," he stated softly. "Having that innocent face, that mass of long curly hair with all the shiny copper in it." He leaned in closer and was practically touching her lips with his. "For having those amber eyes that go wide...not to mention those long, "come hither" lashes that surround them."

He paused and swallowed. He couldn't help himself.

"Then there's these kissable lips, that I can't stop thinking about how they'd taste against mine...yes, it's completely your fault."

He kissed her. It wasn't the fierce attack that he had done when he was disguised as Viktor Krum, it was an appeal. It was a plea. He was asking to be let in. Let in to her mouth, her life and her heart.

She shivered under him, and he could no longer hold himself up. He lowered himself onto his knees, then sat, pulling her into his lap as he deepened the kiss.

He was the first to break it. His eyes were still closed and he nuzzled her ear, squeezing her tightly. "Shame on you... it's all your fault."

When she attempted lift her hand from his shoulder, he placed it firmly around his neck.

"Gods, the things you make me do!" He rubbed his hands up and down her back, exploring the feel of her, pressing her against him.

"Ma...Mal..."

He pressed a finger against her pouty lips, and then gently began tracing his thumb over them.

"And what about that tender, young body?" he whispered. "Shall we even go there?"

Draco kissed her again, more intensely this time. And she didn't fight him. He groaned into her mouth when she reached her hand into his hair and wrapped the other behind him.

_It's you.._

_It's you..._

_I've been waiting for all of my life..._

**A/N: **Where to start? Thank you immensely for all the kind comments! I am so grateful I have this outlet. Sometimes I read my own work and think it's so lacking, or boring, but because it helps me get through the day at times, I keep writing.

Hopefully the dance portion didn't bore you to tears! I have always loved dancing, and when I was in High School I took professional ballroom dance lessons. I ended up choreographing the prom court and commencement ball court dances. I tend to get carried away!

I really don't like song fics. They are so schmaltzy! I deeply regret that I have fallen prey to including lyrics in my chapter! But I just couldn't help it! Sorry! I'll try very hard to never do it again!

I love reading well written FanFic stories. I have to share one in particular that some of you probably have already read, but it was new to me since I'm new to the Dr/Hr ship! It was written way back in 2002, and is called, "Draco Malfoy, the Incredible Bouncing...Rat." This is by far the most humorous FF I've ever read! Here is the link: a few tidbits: In answer to a question in a review, "Throwing a Wobbly" is when one becomes very angry.

This is the theme from Tootsie, "It Might Be You." I personally had the wonderful experience of a delicious green eyed Kiwi rugby player spinning me around on a dance floor while he sang this to me. A memory I will forever treasure!


	18. Confounded

**Chapter 18: CONFOUNDED**

Draco held Hermione tightly as their kiss deepened. All thoughts had emptied from his mind, and the only thing he knew at this moment in time was how she tasted, how she felt in his arms, and how warm it all felt . This was like no other kiss he had shared with Pansy, Melanie or any of the other girls with whom he recently had been experimenting. This felt so pure and free from any sort of ulterior motive. He hadn't planned this; it had just happened. One minute they were dancing and the next he found himself sitting on the floor, holding her, needing her.

Neither one of them had heard the footsteps that pounded the cold stone floor. Draco should have been aware of the other presence, and would have been at any other time, had he not been totally wrapped up in the mind-blowing, blissful kiss.

"Confundus!" yelled the dark Slytherin.

Hermione shook momentarily in Draco's arms, her mouth gasping softly at the impact of the charm as it hit her. She was completely dazed. She stopped kissing immediately, her mouth going slack, and her eyes were glazed over. Draco instantly realized the difference in her, and held her instinctively to his chest as he reached for his own wand.

He froze when he saw his best friend standing there before him, panting with apparent effort. Blaise lowered his wand, and leaned both hands onto his knees while he bent down to catch his breath.

"Blaise, you plonker! What have you done? What in Merlin's name have you done?"

The tall, dark Italian sought control over his breathing, and inhaled deeply before he explained. "I'm too late, aren't I?" he questioned. "I can see I'm too late."

Hermione began to slightly struggle in Draco's arms, pushing herself away from his embrace. She shook her head, as if to try and clear the muddled fog. She couldn't yet speak, trying to grasp her surroundings. She looked up at Draco, questioningly, as if she didn't recognize him. He immediately felt a wave of anger sweep over him, because her eyes no longer reflected the intensity that they had held only moments before. She was no longer a willing, contributing recepient of the best kiss he had ever shared. She looked lost. It appeared as if she couldn't yet hear, because she hadn't acknowledged the other Slytherin.

"Zabini, you wank biscuit!" Draco seethed. "You have exactly one minute to tell me what the hell you've done, before I blast you into another dimension."

"It's the potion, Draco. It's a side effect. We didn't test it enough. I'm sorry. But you should really have been more careful before giving it to her."

"What? What piffle are you muttering about? What side effect?"

The dark Slytherin stood and placed his wand in his back pocket. He ran his free hand through his black hair.

"We should have tested it more, this is your fault!" he repeated.

"Explain!" bellowed Draco.

"I thought it would be entertaining to see Millicent get a bit friendlier with Goyle, if you get my drift. Well, how did I know that the damnable potion has a side effect! Next thing I know, Goyle and Bulstrode are snogging in the common room for the entire house to see!"

Draco felt Hermione try to stand as she extricated herself from his arms. He quickly extended a hand out to her to help her to her feet. He held her hand as she looked bewilderedly around the room.

"What are you saying, Blaise?" Draco whispered.

"Think about it, mate! When in this lifetime would Gregory ever touch Bulstrode willingly? The potion temporarily enamoured him!"

Draco felt Hermione pull her hand from his grasp, and he didn't stop her.

She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes.

He strode quickly next to his Potion's partner and put his arm around his shoulders. "Are you telling me that I'm experiencing a side effect as well?"

"Gods man, do you even have to ask? Or have pigs started to fly over Hogwarts? Because I am pretty sure that my best mate would never willingly snog a Gryffindor! And especially not _that _one! She a mud..."

He was instantly interrupted when Draco clamped his hand over his mouth tightly, fingers digging into the taller boy's cheeks.

"Don't," threatened Draco. "Don't call her that!"

Blaise's eyes widened and he shook his head in protest. He grasped Draco's wrist and pulled the offending hand away.

"There! Don't you see! There's the proof right there!"

"Malfoy?" Hermione looked at him completely confounded. "What's happened?"

The blond boy glared at Blaise, and held up a threatening index finger. Their conversation would have to be temporarily delayed.

"Nothing's happened, Granger. We were just about to start dance practice."

"Start? I don't understand. Why is Zabini here?"

The intruding Slytherin lifted his chin in his only response, and placed his hands into his pockets. He would let Draco handle this. _This was his idea from the start!_

Draco had to think quickly, a talent that had become an artform for him. He had no difficulty whatsoever when it came to concocting stories or twisting truths.

"Granger, you're looking more peaked than usual. Are you ill?"

"I... I don't know," she responded truthfully.

He watched her struggle with her attempts at trying to remember, her eyebrows furrowing, her mouth opening and then closing again without speaking.

"You must be ill, Granger. Zabini got here five minutes ago."

"How long have we been here?" she asked, still confused.

Draco looked at her. He noticed her lips first, how full they appeared, freshly kissed. He noticed how her hair had fallen loose. She began twisting it together and wrapped it around in a makeshift bun. If he were any kind of decent being, he would tell her the truth. He would walk up to her and attempt to hold her while she struggled with her memory. He would try and reassure and comfort her. If he was any sort of decent being.

"We should call it a day, Granger. You're obviously not well, and I would hate for you to sick up on me."

She tilted her head when she looked at him. Hermione saw a flashback of Draco holding her, leaning forward to kiss her.

"No," she mumbled. She resisted the strange thought that forced itself upon her. Where did that come from?

"No? Come, Granger, I know I'm irresistable, but truly, you do look unwell. I think we had better stop now."

He felt a surge of self-loathing rise up in his throat like bile. Could that kiss, that dance, that embrace, could it all have been a result from a silly potion? Was it as Blaise had said, an ironic side effect that had him charmed? How else could he explain or rationalize the events that had unfolded?

Then again, he knew he had wanted to snog her. He had wanted it since the night he had damned himself by kissing her as Krum. Maybe even before then! He couldn't get her out of his system. That's what this was, it must be a mixture of the potion as well as his own healthy lust for her. But he had felt lust before, and it never felt like this!

"We didn't dance yet? We didn't do... anything?" She paused and began to nibble on her own lower lip.

"Do you want Zabini to walk you to hospital wing?" he asked. She noticed how he had almost seemed to be concerned. This was even more confusing. Since when was Draco Malfoy nice to her?

She shook her head and took a few nervous steps toward the door. Draco nodded at Blaise, silently instructing him.

"Follow her. Make sure she gets to Gryffindor tower safely and doesn't wander into the lake," Draco whispered.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, a last attempt to try and reconcile her thoughts with her feelings. She felt so baffled. Why did she almost remember dancing in his arms? Why could she almost feel him holding her, smiling down at her? It wasn't possible. She _must_ be ill. Perhaps she had eaten something at breakfast this morning that had made her sick. What on earth had gotten into her?

The last thing she could clearly recall was Harry and Viktor fighting. She remembered kissing Viktor. Yet it disturbed her, because just as clearly she thought she had kissed Draco Malfoy as well. She was definitely in need of a good lay down.

"You ok then, Granger?" Blaise inquired. Poor mudblood, this wasn't her fault. He almost felt guilty. Almost. It wasn't his half-cocked plan, after all.

They headed out together and Draco lowered himself on to the floor, feeling weak in the knees. He sprawled flat out, putting his arm over his eyes, trying to force out the memory that assailed him.

It wasn't unpleasant. It wasn't disgusting. It didn't even repulse him the way it should. The thoughts of what they had just shared _should have_ upset him, but instead he felt a deeply intense gnawing of guilt. Damnable potion! What wretched irony! Worse still was the realization that Hermione had been under it's influence when she kissed him. She must have been, otherwise she would have never have willingly opened up to him the way she had. The look on her face was so trusting, so inviting.

"Bloody hell!" he groaned. Everything had backfired.

The music must have stopped ages ago, but he couldn't recall when. There were only a few things he knew for certain. He had screwed up. He somehow had inadvertantly entangled himself in a web of deceit, and instead of feeling victorious, he felt like a bastard.

He also knew that Hermione Granger would never forgive him if she discovered what he had done. Even if she was an overly caring bint at times, he reckoned that if she wanted to, she could hex him into obilivion. There wasn't a student in Hogwarts that knew more charms, spells and hexes than her.

Oddly enough, he really didn't care about that. What concerned Draco Malfoy was the fact that he had deceived her her twice now. He had tricked her into kissing him. Under false pretenses he had seduced her.

"BUGGER!" he yelled at no one in particular. Removing his arm from his eyes, he stared up into the magicked ceiling. It appeared as if it was snowing indoors.

He hadn't been hit by the Confundus charm, but he was positively bewildered at what he should do now.

The curious thing is that he liked dancing with her. He especially enjoyed kissing her. There was a part of him that knew he couldn't conjure up those intense feelings from a potion. No side effect would make him feel the way he still felt, long after he was out of the potion's reach.

This was only supposed to be a prank. It was intended as a lark.

So why did he feel as if he had just screwed himself?

0----0----0----0

Hermione was sitting on the large deep red sofa in the Gryffindor common room when Harry found her.

"Shall we finish up the Potions report now that we have the salve done then?" Harry asked her.

Hermione shrugged, and stared into the warm flames of the fire. She felt frustrated and somehow detached as Harry spoke. She still couldn't get the image of a smiling Draco Malfoy out of her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she kept thinking about him.

"Hermione, you've been off since dance practice. I've already apologized. Are you still upset with me?"

She looked at him for the first time since he sat next to her and frowned.

"I do feel off, Harry. I don't know how to explain it."

"I'll finish up the report by myself. You go up and get some rest."

She shook her head emphatically. She had never shirked her homework assignments. She would work together with him and finish what they had started.

"We've done the most difficult part, Harry. Let's just finish the conclusion and ingredients section."

Harry nodded at her and opened his book bag and began pulling out his feather quill, ink and composition scroll.

"Speaking of ingredients," Harry added, "Snape nearly accosted me in his potions cupboard today. He accused me of stealing Wolfbane to make more Polyjuice Potion. He's gone paranoid now! He even threatened me with Veritaserum. Completely bonkers."

"I hope you didn't do anything irrational, Harry!"

"Me? I'd say he's off his chump for randomly accusing me of every strange mishap he encounters!"

"Still, we don't want to set him off right before our assignment is due," she warned.

"This is Snape we're talking about. The man's more of a nutjob than Moody!"

They worked for two hours before Hermione was satisfied with the results of the report. Harry scurried off to bed at the mention of his egg. He knew Hermione would go on for at least another hour of lecturing him to solve the mystery clue if he let her.

The next morning they both felt very proud to hand in their report and the salve that they had worked on together. They had actually used Harry's accidental wounds from the Sphinx as part of the lab experience.

When Professor Snape perused Draco and Blaise's report he cocked an eyebrow.

"Perhaps the two of you can stay after class a few minutes," he suggested.

The willowy professor went from table to table collecting potions and salves, giving cursory comments as his eyes scanned each report.

"Disappointing."

"Desperate attempt."

"Marginal at best."

"Hopeless."

When he stood in front of Harry and Hermione his lip curled. "I tremble with anticipation of what a Triwizard Champion has concocted. Hopefully something more creative than I've seen thus far."

After glancing over the ingredients written on composition scroll, he cleared his throat.

"You two will stay after class as well," he instructed.

As the other students began filing out of the classroom, Harry and Hermione gathered their things together. Professor Snape waited until the last student left before folding his arms, looking down on the golden duo.

"Do you mind telling me where you obtained Nirvae for your salve?"

Hermione looked at Harry, unsure at what she should say. It hadn't occurred to her that they had gone into the Forbidden Forest unaccompanied and without permission. They had even written about Harry's accidental wounds, and couldn't lie about it now.

Harry did not hesitate. "We got it from the colony, Professor."

"Do I even have to tell you how many rules you must have broken in order to get to the colony Mr. Potter? Your blatant disregard for authority never ceases to disgust me. Fifty points from Gryffindor! I will be speaking to your head of house this afternoon!"

Hermione looked as if she were going to say something in retort, but Professor Snape cocked an eyebrow to her as a challenge. She knew from three years experience that it would do no good to argue with the Potions Master.

Harry turned aburptly, picked up his belongings and stormed from the room. Hermione was attempting to place her books neatly in an organized manner in her messenger bag when the professor turned to his next victims.

"Shall I tell you once again what the assignment was, Mr. Zabini and Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"We made a healing potion, just as you asked."

He began to fidget nervously since Hermione was still in the room. He didn't want her overhearing this conversation.

"Mr. Malfoy, with the list of ingredients, do you mind telling me exactly what type of healing potion this is supposed to be?"

Blaise cleared his throat and pointed his head at Hermione, then nudged Draco with his elbow. He couldn't have been any more obvious and any less Slytherin.

Hermione began her walk up towards the door when she heard Draco lower his voice.

"It's sort of a massage potion."

She rolled her eyes as she continued her trek out the door, wihout hearing the remainder of the conversation.

She got to the fourth step of dungeon before she decided to turn around and wait for Draco and Blaise out side of the Potions classroom. She wanted to ask them once again about the previous day's events.

When she got closer to the door she heard Professor Snape's voice rise.

"Erotic Massage Potions are not used for healing! These ingredients you used conjour the most base of all instincts: Lust. You lads will do well to remember that unlike your fathers, I am not proud of this boneheaded, immature, hormonal-driven attempt at a healing potion! You will keep this in mind for future assignments."

She heard muffled responses from both Slytherin boys but Hermione was too startled to move.

The Potions Master voice rose clearly from the room. "Do I even want to read your lab work on how this was experimented?"

She heard the boys chuckling when she clamped her own hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the buzzing sound in her ears. She felt nauseous. The sound of her footsteps racing up the stone stairs was all that Draco heard as they left the classroom.

**A/N: **Consider this your New Year's gift! I've been down with the flu for over a week, and still trying to shake the tail end of it. However, the fun for Hermione is right around the corner! I want to thank all those that take the time to review. Your insight helps me tweak things in future chapters, so keep it coming!

To those that go the extra step of hunting me down on LJ and Myspace, loads of hugs to you! I appreciate your input tremendously. Special thanks for Lisa, Renee and Karen for their beta help on the 'clean' chapters! HAUOLI MAKAHIKI HOU!


	19. Happy Birthday

**Chapter 19: Happy Birthday**

Hermione couldn't exactly see the entire big picture yet, but she had bits and pieces assembled. And what she saw infuriated her. All that she needed to work out now were the actors in this farce and a few more missing details, before she dealt out the punishments. While brainstorming, she had to remain calm, or they would suspect something. She found it almost impossible to believe that Viktor could be an accomplice in this mess, but she had to know for sure.

He had spent hours on end with Professor Karkaroff, working out the secrets of his egg. She had seen very little of him the past several days. In the meantime she had other things to focus on.

She knew that Malfoy and Fleur would be working with Cedric and Viktor for the next two days. It turned out that the Hufflepuff champion was quite adept at dancing, needing very little tutoring. Malfoy would work with Cedric, and Fleur would teach Viktor.

Hermione had asked Draco if she could work alone with Harry since he seemed to be in greater need of private lessons. He couldn't learn any choreographed steps until he got the basics down. Although Draco didn't seem to cotton much to the idea, she was able to convince him once she suggested an alternative: that Draco work alone with Harry.

Teaching Harry Potter to waltz was no easy feat. He could speak Parseltongue, battle dragons, and fight against the Dark Lord, but she could not find a rhythmic bone in his body. She counted with him, clapping his shoulder to keep rhythm. She tried blindfolding him, thinking maybe that would help him rely on his sense of feeling, but to no avail. Her most recent brainchild was to try and use something that Harry could relate to: Quidditch!

With Ron's help she was able to acquire a golden snitch, and placed a charm on it that caused it to float around at her command, dipping lower or rising higher when she motioned her wand.

"Just follow the bouncing snitch, Harry," she coaxed.

"Right," he attempted, trying not to feel embarrassed.

As the snitch moved forward, so did Harry. Hermione smiled. She counted off to him, "One, two, three, that's it!" she praised. "Dip, two, three, yes! You're getting the feel of it!" Having charmed the snitch, she placed the wand in her robe pocket, and approached Harry.

"Now with a partner," she said.

She wasn't certain, but for a moment she thought she saw Harry blush. Without wanting to read more into it than there might be, she held up her hand and waited for him to step into their dance position.

He nervously approached her and inhaled deeply, releasing his breath before taking her in his arms.

He watched the golden winged ball dip and float two counts and he mouthed out the steps. "One, two, three," he concentrated. "Hermione, two, three," he continued. He lowered his voice on the two latter words.

"That's it, Harry," she complimented, "you're doing fine."

"Yourbirthday, two, three." He was trying to talk to her without losing count or breaking his determined concentration. She tried to stifle a grin as she saw his brows furrowed while keeping his eye on the snitch.

When she responded he was still counting quietly.

"It's tomorrow," she stated.

"Iknow, two, three," he continued, "party, two, three."

"Harry this is really quite distracting, do you want to wait until after we dance to discuss this?"

"SoRight, two, three... tomorrownight, two, three... GreatHall, two, three."

She cocked her head to one side while watching him. This was her the best friend that made her laugh, and brought true joy in her life. He was a constant source of surprise.

"Tomorrow night, we are supposed to share the Great Hall with Slytherin again," she corrected.

"Yeah, two, three... Iknow, two, three... Noworries, two, three."

"What have you planned, Harry?"

Unexpectedly Harry lifted Hermione up and spun her around, and then just as surprisingly he continued dancing, but this time without counting out loud.

He seemed to get the swing of it finally, and although he was no Draco Malfoy, he was no longer stomping on her toes or shuffling his feet!

"Just a bit of an informal gathering, the Slytherins have agreed to beg off early."

"How did you ever get them to agree to that?"

He smiled at her and winked. He almost missed a step, but quickly recovered. Maybe a bit too confident, he renewed his concentration by watching the snitch in front of him.

"I told them that we will give the room to them completely next week Friday night."

Her eyebrows raised up in surprise. "Without consulting anyone else?"

"Who's there to consult, Hermione? Just you, and I know you won't say no to a birthday bash!"

"Ever the cocky upstart, aren't we?" she chided.

"It will just be a few of us, once the others leave," he promised. "Don't say no!"

He blinked his enormous, emerald eyes at her and pouted his lip in such an endearing way that she wanted to laugh.

When she smiled freely at him, he shocked her by attempting a dip, only he wasn't as smooth or balanced as he should have been. He lurched forward, putting his weight onto his right foot and leaned her backwards. When Hermione let go of his shoulder and grabbed the back of his neck by natural instinct to keep from falling, he lost what little balance he had, and tumbled to the ground, directly on top of Hermione.

Both of them laughed. So much for his dance skills!

"I guess I can really sweep a girl off her feet, ennit?"

He grinned boyishly as he looked down at Hermione. He slowly lifted himself off of her, by raising himself up with his arms. He didn't move beyond that.

"Harry," she prompted.

He looked down at her face. Her cheeks were blushing crimson right before his eyes, matching his own. Her eyes darted to his and she blinked nervously several times. When she wet her lips with her tongue, he nearly lost it. He wanted to kiss her.

He had behaved so well towards her for the past week, reigning in his desire to touch her, to caress her and to kiss her. But now he felt it wash over him with such power that his arms trembled.

Would it be so wrong? She was right there, inches away. All he had to do was to close the space between them.

"Rita Skeeter!" she blurted out.

Harry jumped up and looked around.

"What? Where?"

Hermione started straightening her robes out as she stood up quickly. She had seen it in his eyes. She knew what he was contemplating, and she knew she had to take control quickly, before her own resolve melted.

"No, I mean, Rita Skeeter must have some sort of devious way of obtaining information and listening in on our conversations!"

"What? Where did that come from all of sudden?"

"Because, she seems to always print partial truths in her column, Harry. How does she get them? How do we know she's not listening now?"

When Harry shrugged she continued, "I think she has some way of bugging us. I'm not sure how because I know Muggle bugging devices won't work here. But it's like Professor Moody says, _Constant Vigilance!_"

0----0----0----0

Draco had taken to pacing quite often now. He found it relaxing. He had explained his newly hatched plan to Blaise, assigning him to convey it to Goyle and Crabbe. Draco would take personal responsibility for convincing Krum. He couldn't think of any other way to get Hermione on his own without raising suspicions all around.

He didn't think the Bulgarian would object, because it was just good, clean fun, after all. Nothing toxic or venomous. Not this time.

When Viktor entered the Slytherin common room, Draco smiled and beckoned him closer, ready to reveal his plan.

Up above them, several stories higher, Harry, Ron, Padma, Parvati and Neville scurried around, instructing house-elves, levitating balloons, and magicking the ceiling to appear as though it were raining confetti.

Ginny carried a large box as she entered the doorway, followed by the Weasley twins, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Each carried an odd sized carton, and the other Gryffindors paused to see what they had brought.

"I thought it would never get here!" she announced.

"Ginny," Ron started, "I'm almost afraid to ask. What's in the boxes?"

"Something fun!" grinned George.

"Something brilliant," piped Fred.

"It's a surprise," corrected Ginny. "You'll see when everyone else does!"

She set the older teens to work, explaining to them in hushed tones what she wanted to have done. They went about their tasks efficiently while the others continued with the decorations and food orders.

Harry reminded Dobby to tell the other kitchen elves that they were to make an appearance tonight, so that Hermione could enjoy one evening of their company without them scurrying around working. Dobby fretted over the details, because he was certain the other house-elves wouldn't be as willing to forego their tasks as Harry wished.

It wasn't long before Harry shooed everyone out, reminding them to be back in the room at half past seven. Harry had asked the Headmaster if he could invite Hagrid and Professor McGonagall for the first hour of the party, and Professor Dumbledore agreed it would be a welcomed gesture.

An hour later the room began filling with Slytherin and Gryffindor students, all casually dressed in jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and hoodies. With the exception of one, of course. Draco Malfoy probably didn't own a pair of Muggle jeans. He wore a tailored pair of black trousers with a black turtleneck. The only casual part of his appearance was that he had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

Ginny, Fred and George had placed themselves in charge of the music, and had set up two wizarding phonographs, with stacks of modern day music for them to choose from. They were placed in position of the head staff table, with a small gift table next to them. As the students filed in, several carried their gifts over to the smaller table, where Hermione stood talking to Harry and Ron. Harry wasn't surprised that none of the Slytherins brought gifts, because technically the birthday celebration for Hermione wouldn't begin until nine o'clock.

The food magically appeared on the two long tables, Slytherin and Gryffindor, with the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw long row of tables removed from the room, leaving an open space down the middle. Hermione was very pleased when she saw Hagrid and Professor McGonagall make an appearance, each handing her a gift. Hermione thought that Hagrid's appeared to have moved slightly, and she gestured with her head to Harry. He leaned over and whispered, "Probably one of his Nifflers; it'll help you find some gold!" Hermione blanched at the thought!

It wasn't long before Ginny revealed her surprise: the wizarding version of Dance, Dance Revolution! Fred and George grabbed Angelina and Alicia by the hand and ran out to the middle of the floor. Ginny pointed her wand down at the stone floor, and placed the needle on a snappy tune. The boys demonstrated as each of the stones lighted with different colored arrows. Ginny called out for the others to join them, and then Fred pointed his wand to the head table and a translucent screen appeared, with an exact replica of the illuminated arrows throbbing to the beat of the music.

Even Harry was enjoying the easier, less complicated songs. But no one could match the rhythm and expertise of Dean Thomas, not that any of the Slytherins had tried. Dean was in his element.

Hermione was clapping with the others as the songs grew more complex, eliminating several of the dancers, while they cheered Dean on. She was so happy to be surrounded by her friends, and was so thrilled that they had gone to the trouble of throwing a party for her.

Viktor had slowly worked his way over to her, and placed a nicely wrapped package down on the table.

"It's from Bulgaria," he smiled at her.

She smiled back, genuinely confident that Viktor could hold no malice toward her.

"Thank you, Viktor, you really didn't have to, you've already given me so much."

"It's not much, Hermyninny," he said, "but it comes with invitation." He took her hand and leaned over and kissed it. Draco had been watching him intently, and began moving closer in their direction.

"I would like you to come visit me in Bulgaria, perhaps in summer?" he invited.

Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise and she stared at him.

"This gift," he motioned to it, "it is from the Vitosha Mountain, near the capital city of Sofia. It was made at the Rila Monastery. I'd like to take you there."

Before she could respond, Draco cleared his throat as he tapped her on the shoulder.

"I didn't bring you a gift," he confessed.

She raised her eyebrow at him, and looked at him, from head to toe. The boy was immaculate. He looked positively fetching. She couldn't help but think he was too handsome for his own good.

"I wouldn't expect one from you, Malfoy," she admitted honestly.

"Well, I'm just saying, to show we Slytherins can be good sports, we would like to play a game before we shove off."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and promptly noticed that they were joined by Harry and Ron. Draco expected no less. They were so predictable.

"What do you say, Krum," Draco offered. "A nice, fair yet competitive game. Show these Gryffindorks how to really have some fun?"

"What are you on about now, Malfoy?" asked Ron.

"Just a game, Weaslebee. No need to get your knickers in a twist."

"Looking for a bit of retribution from the snowball fight?" Harry asked. He referred to the indoor snowball fight that the Gryfindors had with the Slytherins in the Great Hall last week, one that the Gryfindors triumphed.

"Not really," shrugged Draco. "Something a bit more strategic: Capture the House Flag."

He pointed with his wand, and the esteemed emerald and maroon house flags instantly appeared on opposite corners of the Great Hall. Fred and George had noticed the appearance of the flags, as did Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. All four joined the circle of conversation.

"Look, it's not that complicated, Potter. Since you don't trust me, we can make Krum our Captain. I assume you'll want to lead the Gryffindor team, no surprise there. Might be entertaining to watch the two Triwizard champions."

Harry seemed to be mulling over the idea.

"It's not as if we can do anything with Professor McGonagall right here. Unless of course you're scared of us showing up your kack team."

Harry rolled his eyes upwards and responded, "Malfoy, tonight is sort of a private celebration. We only have an hour or so more before you Slytherins slink back to your dungeon. Why not just try and enjoy yourselves? I don't want to ruin this for Hermione."

Draco played his trump card. "What do you say, Granger? Up for a bit of friendly payback? I mean, it's not quite fair making our house mull around while your lot bop up and down to this rubbish." He motioned at the phonographs.

Hermione smiled wickedly. "I'm always ready for payback, Malfoy."

"Right!" Draco exclaimed before anyone could change their minds.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and spoke for the first time. "Mr. Malfoy, it's only prudent to convey the rules of play to the entire room."

Draco swept low into a bow and said, "Of course, Professor. I wouldn't have it any other way."

As both Slytherin and Gryffindor students gathered, Draco proceeded to explain the rules of the wizarding game. "Krum will captain the Slytherins," he directed, "and Potter will attempt to lead the Gryffindors. The objective of this game is for each house to capture the other's flag. Each team should have an offense and a defense. Obviously the more stealth you can be at slipping into enemy territory, the better. If an enemy is captured within the opposing team's borders, then they are sent to jail."

Blaise began converting the middle of the room from a colorful dance floor into a forest of trees. Fred and George aided in the ambiance by dimming the ceiling candles.

Draco continued, "The flags cannot be removed by anyone other than the opposing team. No baby-sitting the flags either. You cannot post a guard within ten feet. Anyone that manages to get themselves captured must stay in jail without yelling out any instructions to their teammates, just to make sure, the prison will have a _Muffliato _charm placed on it."

Professor McGonagall asked, "Mr. Malfoy, what about wands?"

"Yes, Professor, excellent point. The only hexes that can used in the game are: _Expelliarmus, Incarcerous, and Mobiliarbus. _Professor McGonagall will use _Prior Incantato _if there is any question as to whether any other type of spell or hex was used to win the game."

He explained how the area behind the staff table would be the impromptu prison. With a wave of his wand, everyone's clothing became identical to his, black on black.

"Camouflage," he grinned. "And Longbottom, do make sure to memorize your team mates faces. I wouldn't want you incarcerating your own crew. Each team has ten minutes to go and hide their flags."

Hermione cleared her throat, getting his attention.

"Any last words, Granger?"

"How do we ensure the prisoners don't escape?"

He cocked his head at her and then slowly smirked.

"You and I will be the jail wardens. It's your birthday, so we don't want you getting hexed up."

When the opposing teams retreated to their own boundaries, Harry huddled the Gryffindors together and began whispering strategies and tactics. Ron quickly lowered the Gryffindor flag and ran off to hide it. Draco ambled over to Hermione and casually folded his arms.

"Check out Winston Churchill Junior, will ya?" Draco drawled, as he nodded in Harry's direction. He moved a few steps closer to Hermione.

"Let's say we make this interesting, Granger. Fancy a wager?"

"I know better than to fall for your traps, Malfoy. This game was your idea after all, I wouldn't be surprised if you had some way of rigging it."

"Ah bless! There you go, showing such faith in me! You wound me, Granger."

"Don't be an moron, Malfoy. Your reputation proceeds you."

"Right, then. No friendly wager. How about just some friendly repartee then?" He smiled at her devilishly. "Let's get comfy whilst I chat you up."

Hermione sighed deeply and shrugged her shoulders. There were probably dozens of ways she had envisioned spending her fifteenth birthday. Being chatted up by Draco Malfoy wasn't on the list. If arrogance was a cologne, Malfoy would have reeked from it. But there was something slightly different about tonight. He seemed more open, and less malicious.

He began by speculating at the incredible manky gift she could have received from Hagrid. He then gave a great oration on a list of books that Professor McGonagall could have given her. When he started teasing about about Molly Weasley possibly sending her homemade socks, Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

"No worries, though, you can always distribute them amongst your little mates in the kitchen, if they'll even have them."

"Malfoy, you're not a total arse, when you put a bit of effort in it."

He feigned being shot by an arrow in the heart, and yanked out the invisible weapon.

"And you, Granger," he said as he genuinely smiled at her. "You're not half bad yourself."

When she blushed, he raised his hand to her hair, as if to touch it. He changed his mind at the last minute and shrugged.

"Except of course this hair. Really! I know what to get you for your birthday now! They've got some great wizarding product that will do nicely." She slugged him playfully in the arm. "And those trainers, come on! Didn't anyone ever tell you that solid white trainers aren't acceptable attire after September?" She shook her head at him, rolling her eyes. "And is the word 'cosmetics' even in your vocabulary?"

No, she thought to herself, Draco Malfoy wasn't a complete arse.

**A/N: **I wanted to thank everyone for their Get Well wishes! It worked! I'm feeling much better! Yata! So much so that I cranked out another chappie! I hope you liked it. We will have some real fun in the upcoming chapter with the Capture the Flag game and a few reveals for Hermione!

I want to thank Courtney for nominating my story on Dangerous Liasons. I can't think of a bigger honor than for someone to enjoy it so much that they would nominate me. It's my first story so I am just glad someone's reading it! I started this as a lark, because I enjoyed reading several stories on here. Your comments and suggestions help! Thank you!


	20. Captured

**Chapter 20: Captured**

The Great Hall was filled with a dense forest of trees, and the competitiveness in the air was so thick that it was equal to any Quidditch match held at Hogwarts. Both the Gryffindors and Slytherins had deployed their offensive teams along with their defense protecting the hidden house flags. Viktor had instructed the Slytherins on where to hide the silken green banner, and led the offense out to capture the enemy's maroon banner. While the lithe, black clothed teens snuck between the trees in pairs, Draco sat next to Hermione, comparing their likes and dislikes. The list had gotten quite long as they worked their way through it.

"Ocean or mountains?" asked Draco.

"Definitely ocean," answered Hermione confidently. "It's so powerful and alive, and yet one can get such a peacefulness and serenity from just sitting and watching the waves ebb and flow."

Draco stifled a fake yawn, which made Hermione want to walk up to him and give him a friendly slug in the arm, but she resisted.

"Wrong again, Granger. You're not very good at this are you?" he joked. "It's the mountains that are majestic and powerful in nature. Their strength is rock hard, as they reach for the heavens, lifting us up with them, to give a glimpse of everything that surrounds us. They remind us of how insignificant we are, yet they truly make one feel as if you're on top of the world."

She grinned at him, and her eyes reflected a sparkle. He amazed her. This was the same boy that she was cursing only weeks ago. Yet here he was, calmly discussing their favorites in life.

"Add another to the lenthy list we have of things we don't have in common," she jested.

Before Draco could respond, they both jumped as a voice hollered, "_Mobiliarbus_!"

They both turned to observe the trees closest to them begin to uproot, and move towards them, giving the spell-holder more room for her search. There was still plenty of space between the slow moving trees and Draco and Hermione, but suddenly the trees stopped their gradual movement, and again rooted themselves into the floor of the Great Hall.

The slender, smiling Ginny popped out from behind one of the trees and waved conspiringly at Hermione, before giving her a 'thumbs up' and ducking back behind the dark trees, and rushed further into the fray of battle.

"What was that?" queried a confused Hermione.

"You're asking me? The Weaslette is your mate, Granger. Only you could have the slightest idea of what goes on in that scary gingerhead of hers."

Hermione glanced sideways at Draco, noticing that he wasn't speaking with malice or ill-intent for the first time when he mentioned a member of the Weasley family. He was an utter mystery tonight, indeed.

"Let's give it another go," he prompted. "Favorite season?"

She pondered momentarily before answering.

"I suppose you think I'll say Spring, because it brings renewal and beginnings of new life, etcetera, etcetera. And I also suppose you'll say Winter, because you're just that sort of fellow that likes everything cold and bleak." She watched him for a response but all he did was raise an eyebrow at her. She continued, "But my answer is Autumn. I like the colorful leaves, and the way nature sheds itself from the old before awakening the new. I like the briskness in the air that keeps you alive and awake, no matter what time of day it is. I like the way the rain saturates everything while I watch it from inside, from a nice, cozy window. And yes, I even like All Hallow's Eve, so don't act so surprised."

He grinned back at her and shook his head and looked out toward the forest to see if he could make out any movements of the battling teams.

"You know, I wasn't going to guess Spring. I would have guessed Summer for you." When she cocked her head at him in question he explained. "You get to return to your Muggle world in the summer, don't you? You get to be home with your family, visit with your bosom buddies and all that rot." He shrugged. "Yeah, I would have guessed summer." He moved his gaze from the faux forest to hers. "But you're spot on with Autumn. My favorite isn't winter at all."

Hermione jumped when she heard two voices scream loudly and then heard Fred Weasley's mocking laughter. He seemed to be ribbing someone, and knowing Fred, it couldn't be good. Hermione instantly felt curious as to what prank he had pulled on the unsuspecting Slytherins.

She looked over at Draco and shrugged.

"I'm not sure we even want to know, although if it's one of the Weasley twins, you can bet that one of your housemates is the on the receiving end of his lark."

If they could venture into the forest, they would have seen Gregory Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode, both dangling in the air, captured in a net that was made of tree vines woven together.

Fred had explained to Angelina, his teammate, that it wasn't cheating if they used _Mobiliarbus_ to inter-twine the vines into a net. The captives seemed to be putting up quite a bit of ruckus but Fred immediately noticed how advantageous this sort of position could be.

He grabbed ahold of Angelina's hand as he headed forward with her into enemy territory.

"Get off me, Gregory!" Millicent protested. "You're smushing me! I can't breathe!"

Goyle attempted to stretch his arm in order to extend his wand, but it was no use. His arms were tightly plastered against him, and the more he attempted to move, the closer he was pressed against Millicent.

"Easy, girl," Goyle said softly, "You'll not be wanting to fidget too much."

Millicent was about to reprimand Goyle for not trying harder, when she noticed a familiar gleam in his eyes, and instantly smirked.

Fred and Angelina had come up behind Harry and Fred whispered, "Oi, Harry! We're going to work our way forward, together, so Angie can watch my back. You'll need to be keeping an eye out for Krum, he's a slippery one!"

Harry didn't need reminding of just how slippery Viktor Krum was. He was all too familiar with the other Tri-wizard champion, and couldn't wait to best him. He was sure that Krum was probably thinking and plotting exactly along these same lines, knowing his possessiveness of Hermione. They had never really settled things between them since the tug-of-war during the last dance practice.

If Harry could have seen Viktor, he would have indeed seen him, along with Blaise, working their way slowly into Gryffindor territory. They had not yet found the enemy's house flag, but they were determined to do so. He agreed with Draco Malfoy on this, Harry Potter needed to be brought down a few pegs. Viktor knew that Harry still needed to know his place as Hermoine's friend, and realize that he was no more than just a friend to her.

Blaise followed closely behind Krum, on his heels. He had been given the mission by Draco to make sure that Potter was captured, and that Slytherin won. The fact that his best mate had entrusted this to him made him feel proud. He was a bit surprised that Draco didn't want to do this himself. It was usually just the type of game that Draco would have excelled at. Strategizing against Gryffindor and Harry Potter! But he seemed content to be a jail warden, along with Granger. Strange.

Then again, Blaise pondered, maybe the potion wasn't completely responsible for his previous actions after all. It had been days since the potion had worn off, and yet Draco actually selected himself to work with Granger. Odd. Very odd indeed.

Blaise must have been caught up in his thoughts, because when he heard two screams directly in front of them, he bumped squarely into Viktor Krum's back.

Krum swung around and glared at him, and then placed a hand on Blaise's shoulder.

He gave him a slight push backwards.

"Not so close! " He eyed Blaise from head to toe. "On second thought, don't walk behind me at all. You stay where I can see you."

"Bloody hell, Krum" Blaise whispered furiously. "This is not time for you to get suspicious of my sexual orientation! It was an feckin' accident!"

Viktor shrugged, nonchalantly and then gestured for them to move forward, silently.

They peered from behind a large tree to see one of the Weasley twins and a Gryffindor female Quidditch teammate tied up together in a net made of vines. Viktor looked at Blaise questioningly, but the tall Italian lifted his hands up in response.

"I can't believe we didn't see this!" yelled Angelina. "Gods, how moronic are we to be caught in the same trap we laid for them!"

Fred squirmed, trying not to smirk as he pressed himself completely against the tall, pretty girl that was plastered against him.

"Angie, have a care with the wand, love," he said too jovially, "it's not exactly in a comfortable position, and I may want to have a brood of little Weasleys someday!"

"Fred, you great git, stop pressing against me, I can't move with you squirming around."

The twin leaned in so that he was only a few centimeters away from her face. He grinned wickedly at her, and then took her by complete surprise and kissed her.

When he felt her suck in her breath with astonishment, he pulled away momentarily.

"Sly, sly Slytherins," he whispered. "How do you reckon they used the same idea as us?"

Blaise rolled his eyes and tapped Krum on the shoulder, then inserted his index finger into his mouth, mocking a gag reflex. The things couples did for a bit of groping. The fact that it was part of the game, and obviously a trap set by Weasley himself, made Blaise realize that there was no extent young lovers wouldn't go to, in order to be together. Let them enjoy their thrill while they could. The professors couldn't do anything about it, since it was all a part of the game.

Maybe Weasley had a smidgen of Slytherin in him after all.

Blaise and Krum moved stealthily forward, in search of The Boy Who Lurked.

Meanwhile Ron was shadowing Harry, and nearly flew out of his own skin when Harry bellowed, "_Expelliarmus_!" Vincent Crabbe's wand went flying from his hand, but Pansy quickly stepped from behind him and aimed her own wand at Ron. She cast the same spell on him, while both sides dashed behind the nearest trees they could find, fending off further attempts. Knowing they could not use _Accio, _both teams needed to either figure out a way to unarm each other, or recover the expelled wands.

Meanwhile, Hermione furrowed her brow, and turned to Draco. "You know I can't see anything going on in there, can you? Now that Ginny moved the trees, I can't see a thing!"

Draco smirked for the first time and straightened up from his leaning stance.

"If we can't see them, that probably means they can't see us either, Granger."

He moved slightly closer to her and lowered his voice a fraction before continuing, his gaze growing more intense.

She cleared her throat and searched for a diversion to break her away from the captive hold he had on her eyes.

"You were talking about winter, Malfoy."

He was now standing directly in front of her, only a foot or so away.

"I've nothing against a warm fireplace," he leaned in toward her, "or a friendly snowball fight." She smiled at his statement, remembering the exact event in the Great Hall a few days prior when Slytherin and Gryffindor houses pelted each other with snowballs.

"So, from the list of ten items so far, we've agreed on one. Who would have guessed?" she said cheekily.

Her smile faded immediately when she saw the grey eyes darken. He was no longer grinning at her, and his features were unreadable.

"Granger," he said suddenly sounding very serious, "I'm sure before the night is over, we will discover at least a few more things we can agree on if we only put our minds to it."

Hermione swallowed hard and felt an instant nervousness wash over her. She was already surprised as it was that the two of them had spent who knows how long discussing uncommon interests, uneventfully as if they were long lost mates. She began to look around, and fidget her weight from one foot to the other. She was no longer suspicious of him. Nor could she could not mistake the attraction between them.

She knew it wasn't imaginary. This time Draco wasn't being blatantly perverse or overbearing, the way he had been with her in the past. He wasn't threatening her in the least. He had been chatting, and enjoying her company as she was his. It was almost surreal. It was almost as if they truly were friends. Only now, the look he was giving her was not exactly one of friendship.

"Malfoy," she said in a hesitant response. "Listen, I'm not sure what's happening here. You know I can't think of two more polar opposites in all of Hogwarts."

He nodded at her and reached for her hand. He turned her palm up and traced the lines on it with his index finger. "You zig and I zag," he admitted while still softly moving his finger down her lifeline. She wasn't expecting him to actually touch her and she looked around the room quickly while attempting to pull her hand out of his grasp. "Exactly," she said, letting out a suppressed breath.

He held onto her hand, and then closed his over it, holding it between the two of his.

"It doesn't have to be that way, you know," he suggested, never taking his eyes off hers.

When she tugged again on her hand, he noticed that she did so with less certainty, almost half-heartedly. He continued, "Where's that Gryffindor courage, Granger? Or is it all talk, and no action?" He lifted her hand up to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. "You know what I want to do right now?"

She felt her knees weaken as she looked at him. At the same time, she felt excited by the intensity in his eyes, and the electricity that sparked between them. The chemistry was almost palpable, and she was sure they were emitting pheromones galore! If anyone even glanced in their direction, they would see that she had not resisted in the least.

She couldn't find her voice. They had been talking about such innocent things only moments ago, and now she could feel his breath as he opened her hand and he placed a soft kiss on the center of her palm. She shivered with an instant chill that ran up her spine with a current that shot up her arm and throughout her body.

He hadn't anticipated being this open with her. He knew that Hermione Granger was not expecting him to truly flirt with her, in such an honest way. He wasn't demeaning her, or mocking her; he was genuinely and hopelessly attracted to her. He wanted her to see what she did to him. He decided at that very moment, he wanted her know how he felt.

He placed her hand that he was holding on his chest, and then closed his eyes while he concentrated on his own heartbeat. He could feel the pounding, and the adrenaline that rushed through him while she was so close. He hoped she could feel it as well.

"Read between the lines, Granger." He opened his eyes and bore into hers. "This is what you do to me. I don't know how else to say it."

She had never felt more excited or aroused than at this very moment. The past few months had brought her a myriad of emotions. She had feelings of confusion, encouragement, anger, the joy of receiving her first kiss from Viktor, guilt, happiness and an intense, newly awakened, completely unexpected attraction to the bane of her existence. She had snogged her best friend, and enjoyed it. But at this very moment, the trees behind Draco seemed to disappear from her view. The Great Hall appeared to evaporate around them, and all that was left standing there was Draco Malfoy.

By all that was sacred to her, she would swear that she was about to kiss him. She felt propelled toward him, forgetting where they were altogether, and not caring who watched. He immediately noticed the flash of passion in her eyes, and recognized that they must be mirroring his own.

"I can manage, until I look in those eyes," he said softly.

Some things could not be forgotten. Draco would never forget the taste of Hermione's mouth, or the feel of her bare skin under his lips. He would never forget what it felt like to be close to her. He shifted as his body reacted to the memory.

Then without thinking another thought, he pulled her to him and kissed her. It was a wonderful kiss that burst free from prolonged restraint. He slanted his lips over hers as he moved his hands to tilt her head to the side, giving him easier access. There was something so familiar about kissing him, Hermione thought as her mind spun around in a thousand different directions. It seemed as though they had kissed before. She had images of him holding her tightly too him, sitting on his lap, embracing him, as they melted together.

It seemed to be a kiss that could have lasted for an eternity, but just as suddenly as it began, it ended. She pulled away from him, and panted for breath. She _had_ kissed him before. There was no doubt now.

She knew the vision in her mind of their previous kiss in the very same Great Hall was real now. She hadn't been fantasizing when she recalled the tender touch of his lips on hers. The problem was, what to do? Had he forgotten? She doubted it was some nefarious reason or plot why he hadn't mentioned it, because she was certain that both of them were sharing the same unquenchable thirst for each other. It was too obvious for her to deny it.

Yet this was so unlike her! What was becoming of her? Her head struggled to put logic before emotion.

"Malfoy, no, this isn't right. I can't believe we did that!"

"Don't," he softly instructed her. "You'll ruin it."

"Where did that come from?" she asked herself as much as she asked him. "I can't believe I did that!" she repeated aloud. Then when she saw the look of disappointment cross his features, she wanted to explain.

"It's always been there, Granger," Draco attested. "You just have never paid attention. So pay attention now!"

He reached down and took her hand in his and pulled her quickly into the makeshift jail cell. After whispering a cloaking spell, Hermione knew that Draco had magicked the area so that they could still see out from the bars, but no one could see them inside. He then guided her back against the bars, and placed his hands on either side of her, holding onto a bar with each hand.

"Trust me," he whispered. His breath caught as he took in her flushed face. His eyes moved to her hair, and noticed a wisp of it hung across her cheek. Her pretty pink lips were parted to allow her tongue to flick out nervously.

Draco observed how her body was taunt, even though he knew she wanted to resist, she didn't. He instinctively lowered his mouth to her neck, and began kissing and tasting the column as she leaned back, giving him better access.

A soft whimper escaped Hermione's lips. Draco held her firmly in place with his hands on either side of her. He claimed her mouth again and watched her thick, dark lashes flutter over her stormy, dark chocolate eyes.

"Tell me to stop, and I will, even if it kills me, I will."

She shook her head mutely at him and with both arms, reached up to embrace him, pulling him closer to her.

"Tell me what you want, Granger. Tell me."

"I c-can't," she said weakly as she shook her head.

"Then I'll make you tell me. I'll make you _want _to tell me."

She bit her lower lip as he dared to caress her. She dropped her head on his shoulder when he began to unbotton her blouse.

She moaned softly has he lowered his mouth, and kissed his way across her collarbone.

His fingers worked quickly, impatient with need. He felt himself losing his control, and he struggled to maintain it.

"You're beautiful, Granger. You know that don't you?"

His mouth kissed a pathway down to the swell of her breast and her knees buckled.

Before risking the next step he raised his head to look at her. She was glowing, and he knew that she could never be more attractive than she was like this.

"I'm going to kiss you all night, because you need it. I can't get enough of your kisses. But I won't do anything you don't want me to, I promise."

He buried his hands in her dark mass of hair and seized her lips in a deep kiss. The exposed skin on her chest prickled with goose bumps, and she pressed into him wantonly. Draco's hips began to make small thrusts against her, mimicking the movement he was making with his tongue in her mouth. He wanted so badly to relieve the ache he was feeling for her, but he refused to rush her. She was more of an aphrodisiac than any potion could ever conjure up.

"Gods, Granger," Draco said huskily between kisses.

He took in the sight of her breasts and the delicate, femininely pink lace bra. He had often wondered, fantasized what she looked like, but it was impossible to match the vision that stood before him, her creamy smooth skin, and the gentle crevice of cleavage that met between each luscious curve. His hands flexed with need as he nervously reached for her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I need to touch you now... I can't stop from touching you."

There. He said it. He had wondered what it would sound like out loud. But he finally said it. Her name rolled naturally from his lips, and before she could react he lowered his mouth on the swell of her right breast, while taking both small mounds in his hands and firmly massaging them. His tongue laved paths on the contours and he delicately licked, nipped and kissed. He began to urge the lace aside, wanting to take in the straining, hardened nipple in his mouth, but Hermione grabbed him by his hair and pulled him up.

"Mal- Malfoy... We can't."

"Yes we can, and we are," he said before he kissed her.

She closed her mouth, preventing his tongue from entering, even after he nipped at her lips.

"Malfoy, listen," she said emphatically. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at his dark silvery eyes. She needed to be strong.

"I won't analyze the strange, inexplicable pull we have going on here, that's not what I'm talking about. It's just that..." She began stroking his hair and opened her eyes to face him, feeling so frustrated. "It's just that I'm seeing someone."

Finally Draco pulled away. Her lips were rosey and swollen and wet. He fisted his hands and closed his eyes. It took every bit of his stubborn will to not lower his mouth back down onto hers and resume kissing her. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer silver, but dark pewter.

"You think I don't know about Krum?" his voice grew hard. "You think I'm unaware of your questionable friendship with benefits that you have going on with Potter?"

Hermione didn't breathe. She was too shocked to react.

"I've been aware of your _romances _from the start, Granger." And just like that, he had resorted back to calling her by her surname. Damn her for stopping him! She was denying him something that he didn't want to be without. Her.

"I don't care!" he spat at her. "It's just ... tomfoolery." His hand reached up and stroked her cheek. His voice softened. "You're mine, Granger. I've decided, and that's that."

Hermione's throat went dry. She had seen so many different sides to Draco Malfoy recently. She had seen him angry, snarky, stone-faced, and had been quite used to him leering at her, but she had never seen him distraught, never had he been so affected by her that he seemed almost desperate.

"Draco, it's not fair. Not until things are cleared up properly," Hermione pleaded softly.

He hung his head in response, and closed his eyes. Her sense of loyalty and righteousness irked him, but he knew she would not be Hermione Granger had she not stopped him. He would have her, but maybe he would have to wait a bit longer.

"Let me borrow your chest for a moment," he conceded.

Draco lowered his forehead onto her chest. She gently resumed stroking his silky soft blond strands that slid between her fingers. As she continued to stroke his hair, he reached down to clasp her blouse closed. The proximity of her bare skin this close to his was too much for him.

"Say it again, please," he asked.

He didn't have to tell her twice. "Draco," she whispered. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Again," he prompted.

"Draco, Draco, Draco..." she grinned at the ease of it. She liked the sound of it as well.

"DRACO!" a male's voice bellowed from behind them.

They both jumped at the sound of it, and Draco immediately looked up quickly to see Blaise and Krum heading their way, with a captured Potter and Weasley in tow. Damn. Did Potter have to choose now to fail? He was hoping the game would go on for a while longer, allowing him more time alone with Hermione.

She quickly began buttoning up her blouse and he helped her.

"Listen," he said in a very serious tone, "we are not done here. You'll meet me tonight, right here, after your party, understood?"

"We might get caught."

"You've never let that bother you before on your escapades with Potter. I've got some things I need to tell you, Hermione. We don't have time right now, just be here, ok?"

She quickly ran her fingers through her mass of curls, trying to straighten them down, which made him smile.

He reached for her shoulder and shook his head at her. "Come here, and kiss me." He pulled her to him. "Make it a nice long one, it will have to hold me for the next few hours."

Hermione's mind spun again, and she didn't know if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life, or the best decision she could possibly make. She grabbed him by his collar and seized his mouth. His smile widened as she kissed him deeply, and the only thing that parted them was the nearing group behind them, as Blaise called for him again.

This was the by far, the best birthday Hermione Granger had ever had.


End file.
